


Inquisito

by dairesfanficrefuge_archivist



Category: Highlander - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-13
Updated: 2005-05-13
Packaged: 2018-12-18 06:07:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11868267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist/pseuds/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist
Summary: Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived atDaire's Fanfic Refuge. Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDaire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile.





	Inquisito

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Daire's Fanfic Refuge](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Daire%27s_Fanfic_Refuge). Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Daire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/dairesfanficrefuge/profile).

Inquisito by P. Miano

  
  


_Inquisito_

By By Patrick B. Miano   
(Contributions, editing, and inspiration by Leslie Fish) 

**Disclaimer** : Cassius Polonius, Methos, Ceirdwyn, Alex Raven, Duncan MaLeod, and Marcus Constantine are the sole property of Davis Panzer. Heinrich and Marcus Remus are my creations, but were inspired by the characters created by Gregory Widen. Casca Rufio Longinus is inspired by Christian legend but is owned by the estate of the late Barry Sadler and his publishers. No copyright infringement was intended. This story was written strictly for fun. 

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

The nights were now warm in Baghdad, but few Americans were out beyond the "Green Zone," the supposedly secure section Al-Qaeda and other insurgents had little trouble infiltrating. Fewer still were stupid enough to wander out alone. But Marc Remo was not a stupid man and he was not wandering; he was out hunting. A "provisional" captain in the American Army, he was actually working for the Central Intelligence Agency - primarily operating with pro-American Iraqi paramilitary groups in the north. He had been recalled from the field only a few days earlier because of a mission calling for his "unique" talents and knowledge of the city. He laughed to himself at the thought. 

He had been born Marcus Remus on the shores of ancient Sicily near present-day Messina, almost 5,000 years ago. His people were the Ilynni, the original inhabitants of that star-crossed island. Raised as the son of a village chief, he had been groomed to become a fisherman and village leader - but fate intervened, and he discovered he was an Immortal. So instead he became a warrior, and that had suited him far better. He had served in the armies of nearly all the ancient empires: with the Egyptians, the Greeks, the Romans, the Byzantines, the Franks, the Normans and others. 

He had spent more time in this city than the current male population combined. Among his kind he was known as "The Centurion" because of the centuries he had served in that rank in the army of Rome, the greatest of all those ancient empires. He'd served most of the modern ones as well, but now he considered himself an American, and had for centuries. He had fought for the United States in all its wars while still fighting the Immortal war for survival. 

Now he was prowling the streets of Baghdad again, silently tracking down and killing terrorists while they planted bombs and set ambushes. He had been very successful, and both the American army and the CIA wanted him to train teams of men like him. He knew that would never work; he was a combat commander, not a trainer or a teacher. In all his years as an Immortal, he had been a teacher only twice, and the last time was over 1500 years ago. His heart pumped with excitement over this "lone wolf" assignment as he drew closer to the target area where suspicious activity had been reported - again. 

The vibration between his eyes appeared abruptly but faintly, and told him another of his kind was around, but not too close. "This makes things far more interesting", he mused. Perhaps this one was fighting on the opposite side; it had happened many times over the millennia. Then again, perhaps he or she had an independent agenda; that had happened too. He unzipped his field jacket, removed the Gladius Iberus sword, an exact duplicate of the blade that he had first carried over 2,500 years ago, and put it in his belt. He adjusted his night goggles, checked his Heckler & Koch submachine gun, and pressed on. 

The Arab scavengers fingered their weapons nervously. Jamal, their leader, checked and re-checked his AK-47 continuously. He and his men were all deserters from Saddam's army; their only goal was wealth, and the foreigner was paying them well. He had warned them that this one man they waited for would be dangerous, but how dangerous could one man be? Still, while not fanatical, the Americans had proven themselves excellent fighters - so their employer, somewhere in the shadows, was taking no chances. He had already paid them well, with the promise of more upon success. 

Jamal's dreams of what he would do with the money were cut short when a man's scream cut through the night air. 

He recognized the voice as Akim's. "Allah curse him!" He had warned the young fool to be on his guard! 

Jamal had been a lieutenant in the Republican Guard, and he knew why the American had not muffled the scream. He had wanted them to hear it, and already some other fools were acting just as he had planned. They were rushing towards the screams, only to utter their own as the muffled bursts of a silenced submachine gun cut them down. 

"By the seven devils of Gehenna!" Jamal swore. "Four men lost already!" He grabbed his hand-held radio and ordered his surviving men to get up and move in towards the alley where the automatic weapon's fire had come from. Then a voice screamed in his ear through the receiver in his left ear. 

"You bloody wog fools! I warned you about him. Rush him! Keep him busy so I can move in." It was their employer, the damned infidel dog. Jamal resolved to kill him too when this was over, money or no money. 

"Then you had better hurry, Effendi," Jamal replied. "We have had enough of both of you!" Oh yes, this one would die too - very slowly. 

  
Marcus was in his stone cold mode, a modern slang expression that amused him. These hoods were idiots, obviously without training, real combat experience, or any common sense for that matter. There was more than enough light for him to make out most of them, and they made so much noise it was easy to find the others. One by one, with steady three-round bursts, he cut them down. They were firing at him, but he had no trouble evading their fire. "If they were all this bad," he thought, "the war would have been over months ago". But then his submachine gun started clicking. Damn it, he had gotten cocky and lost count of his ammo. What a rookie mistake! Oh well, there were only two still in contention, with three more running for their lives. Marcus drew his pistol... 

-and suddenly the "buzz" started ringing in his head like a fire alarm. 

  
"Infidel dog; I will have your heart!" Jamal shouted, charging and firing his AK-47. Then Kareem fell beside him, a bullet between his eyes, and he saw the American draw what seemed at first to be a large knife. Jamal raised his rifle to take aim, but the American rushed him. Jamal was so startled he couldn't get off a shot before Marcus Remus plunged the Roman short sword into his mid-section. He gurgled and his eyes rolled as he drowned in his own blood, and slid to the ground dead one second after Marcus yanked the sword out. 

There was no time to think. The ex-centurion turned and brought up his sword just in time to block the blow of his Immortal foe. He was only a little smaller than Marcus, and dressed in European clothes except for the kaffiyeh, the Arab headdress that covered his head and masked his face. Marcus beat the attacker back in two swift strokes and stayed too close for him to use what looked like an old cavalry saber. The stranger blocked the next two blows but not the third, and Marcus drove the blade of the ancient Roman sword into the fool's shoulder. He had no choice but to finish it; the others might change their minds and rush in. 

The stranger, holding his aching shoulder looked up and screamed something in horror, but it was cut short by the Iberus slicing through his neck. His head flew off and his body crumpled to the ground. 

Marcus had dropped his Beretta pistol in the fight, so he grabbed Jamal's AK-47 and prepared to fire at any attackers still around, but the three survivors were still running. The Quickening flashed out from the body and lightning crashed around him as he drew his victim's strength and power - as he had more times than any other Immortal still living. It was relatively short but strong, and Marcus sensed memories of a woman, familiar memories. 

As the Quickening subsided, Marcus took a few deep breaths. He tried to recall what the attacker had shouted as he died. It was "Al" something. "Allah?" No, he had caught the hunt of a....British accent. Marcus' eyes widened and he rushed to the head of his defeated enemy. He had to get out soon, but he had to know for sure first. He pulled away the cloth masking the face. Despite the darkness, he recognized the dead man. 

"Newbern. Oh God, here we go again!" Marcus shook his head ruefully. 

Somewhere, Alex Raven shuddered, and somehow, she knew. 

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE - TWO MONTHS LATER**

It was 7:00 AM, and the Arizona Desert was surprising pleasant at this time of year. It would warm up by mid-afternoon, but for now it was refreshingly cool. The jeep was stopped at a spot west of Picacho Peak, off of Interstate 10 between Phoenix and Tucson. The peak was actually an upthrust of sandstone, casting a shadow to the west in the morning. As one writer had described it, it appeared to just jut out like a shallow hook. Aside from the jeep, the only thing immediately around was of all things, an ostrich farm about a mile away beside the highway on the other side of the peak. 

Two beautiful women with long brown hair who looked to be in their middle to late twenties sat in the jeep, watching as a jet-black Bell Ranger helicopter steadily descended downward some yards in front of them. The taller of the two women hopped out of the jeep, stretched a little and stoically stared at the helicopter. The shorter one's expression was somewhat nervous and a little sad. They were already sensing the familiar signals of the two men they knew were in the descending metal bird. 

"I'll say one thing for Marcus; he's always on time" the taller one commented, loud enough to be heard over the sound of the helicopter engine as she scratched the back of her neck. 

"Alex, it's not too late" her friend replied. "We can still call off this stupid duel. Hasn't this feud caused enough deaths?" 

"There's going to be just one more, and it's going to be the last one. One way or the other, it ends here and now. Two thousand years is enough." 

The woman now known as Ceirdwyn Connor shook her head in exasperation. "Marcus has beaten you and spared you over a dozen times. He won't do it again." 

"Fourteen times to be exact," Alex replied. "And I wouldn't want him to. I'm not going to spare him either. Like I said, it ends today." 

The helicopter finally touched ground and the whirling blades slowed. A big man with young and handsome Latin features got out on the passenger side and, crouching down as much as possible, cleared the blades and walked towards the jeep. He was smiling like a boy, his eyes fixed on the shorter woman in the jeep as he started waving to her. 

"Cassius!" Ceirdwyn shouted as she jumped out of the jeep and ran into his arms. He caught her in a powerful but gentle hug and lifted her off the ground. Then he carefully put her down and they kissed tenderly. Alex Raven looked away. So did the pilot of the helicopter. 

"Any luck, Cara Mia?" Cassius asked her with a pronounced Italian accent, brushing her hair away from her face. 

"No, Darling. She's determined to go through with this." 

"So is Marcus," he said sadly. "I am very afraid, Ceirdwyn." 

Ceirdwyn could only nod in agreement. Then she smiled slightly and stroked the face of the man she loved. "When I sensed you, it was even steadier than before. The surgery is working, Darling." 

_"Grazie a Dio,"_ Cassius said, smiling back as he stroked Ceirdwyn's hair. "Maybe we can talk later." A sudden sound made them both look toward the helicopter. 

Marcus Remus, another giant of a man with dark features finally stepped out of the helicopter. He was dressed in black, light fabric coveralls and black combat boots. He ignored the two lovers as he fixed his gaze on Alex Raven. She removed her light jacket and tossed it in the jeep. In her turtleneck sweater, blue jeans, and tall riding boots she looked more like a fashion model than the tough warrior they all knew she was. 

"Are you ready to die, Centurion?" Alex called out to the man she had hated above all others for 2,000 years. She took a beautiful French cavalry saber from the jeep, removed the sheath, and flashed it in the air as she performed dueling exercises, her face growing flushed. 

Marcus was not impressed. "Always the drama queen, aren't you, Cumbrian? But to answer your question, I'm ready for anything - especially killing you if you're so anxious to die." 

"Don't be so damned sure it won't be you" she snarled. The stares between them were filled with loathing; 

Ceirdwyn rushed to Alex and pulled her back while Cassius stepped up beside Marcus." Ceirdwyn spoke first. "You both know the rules. No violence, provocations, or name-calling until the referee arrives. 

Not two seconds later, they all felt a strong vibration between their eyes, the "buzz" that told them another Immortal was coming. 

"Fashionably late like a June bride" Marcus chuckled grimly. 

They all looked on as a Harley-Davidson motorcycle casually zoomed toward them. Despite his trendy dark glasses, they could see the driver Adam Pierce, also known as Methos, the oldest Immortal still living. 

"Why did you pick that weasel to be the referee anyway?" Alex asked Ceirdwyn. 

Ceirdwyn shrugged. "He'll be impartial. Neither of you like him and he doesn't like either of you. In fact, you both scare him - especially Marcus." 

"I've got good reason to hate him for what he did to Cassius," Marcus commented. "What have you got against him?" 

Alex looked at Marcus with cold fury. "I don't owe you any explanations, Centurion." 

"Humor me, Cumbrian. Don't get so red in the face. You seem so sure you're going to win this time, grant me my last request." Marcus smirked as he went through some stretching exercises. 

Ceirdwyn spoke up. "I hate him for what he did to Cassius too, but we have other reasons. He wouldn't join us in our war against Rome. Then he was an officer with the British Army in Australia during the 1850s. There was a rebellion by the settlers over Britain's oppressive policies. We helped the rebels, but the British eventually put it down. I'm surprised you weren't there too, Marcus. You've always been big on empires." 

"Actually Cassius and I were back in Italy with Garibaldi back then," Marcus replied casually. "You two always went for losers." 

Before either woman could say anything, Methos drove up and came to a stop. He removed his sunglasses and looked around, quickly averted his gaze from Marcus, but smiled at Cassius. The gentle Roman had long forgiven him for driving the Carthaginian war elephant that had crushed his skull, leaving him immortal but brain-damaged. Marcus, his adoptive father, still held a grudge. With Kronos long dead at the hands of Duncan MacLeod, Marcus Remus was the one person alive that Methos truly feared. He was no match for the giant ex-Centurion, and they both knew it. 

"Hello, Needle-Nose," Marcus said. "I know you figure you're a winner no matter who dies, but why did you agree to oversee this?" 

Methos got off the Harley-Davidson dirt-bike and brushed himself off. "You still have that ridiculous Brooklyn accent, Remus?" he asked. 

"No more ridiculous than that phony English accent of yours, Scythian. You mind answering the question?" Marcus was not really asking. 

Methos sighed deeply. "You know, I passed that 'Rooster Cogburn Ostrich Farm' on the way here. Some of the birds had their heads in the sand. I envied them, because I really wish I were somewhere else, but Ceirdwyn reminded me of the debt I owe Cassius for keeping you off me, and Cassius assured me if I forgot he'd give me some idea of what it felt like to have my skull crushed in by an elephant." 

Marcus looked at Cassius with an approving grin and shook his open palm. Cassius smiled back and held out the palms of both hands with a shrug. Even Ceirdwyn smiled, albeit reluctantly, but Alex was not amused by the Italian sign-language. 

"We are here for a duel, not a social hour!" she shouted. "Get this started, now!" 

Ceirdwyn rushed up to her. "Alex, please don't do this! No good will come of it. You can end this without violence." 

Alex Raven shook her head. "This is a 'Duel of Retribution', Ceirdwyn. There is no backing down. Don't interfere. I'm not going to let your boyfriend knock me out and throw me on a garbage scow like he did to poor Derek and me in New York back in 2001." She turned to face Marcus. "I don't know why you chose this god-forsaken spot, you Roman dog, but it ends here." She scratched her arms nervously, and then braced herself. 

Marcus scowled back at her. "As the challenged party, it was my right to choose the location. The last time I fought one of these, I fought it here. I've never wanted this vendetta, but if you want to end it this way, so be it." Marcus was notorious for having never lost a duel. Over the centuries many Immortals had lost fights, but some were spared when they yielded. In almost 5,000 years, Marcus had never yielded, and had spared few opponents. One was Methos, Alex was another, but Alex Raven was the only one he had ever spared more than once. 

"She's right," Methos said, taking his place between them. "Let's get this over with. Opponents, take your places. The Duel of Retribution begins." 

Cassius stepped in front of his father. "Marcus - Papa - please stop this. You don't want to kill her; you know you don't. If you did, you would not have spared her so many times. There must be another way." 

Marcus shook his head. "I'm sorry Cassius, but I can't think of one. Can you?" He stepped around Cassius and took his place. 

"Maybe I can. _Dio mio,_ don't let me fail" Cassius whispered to himself, and took his place on the sidelines. Ceirdwyn took her own position across from him, and the two lovers exchanged worried glances. His face tight with tension, Methos stepped to a spot equidistant between Marcus and Alex. He looked at both duelists, and then recited words that were even older than he. 

"We are here for the "Duel of Retribution," established by ancient custom. When two our kind are so consumed by personal hate, when there is no reconciliation possible, one may issue this challenge - and wherever the other is, the other must answer. This is a duel of honor, without regard to 'The Game.' Let the one who issued the challenge come forth and speak." 

Alex took one step forward, pointed her finger at Marcus, and spoke. "I am Alex Raven now, but I was born Princess Ailia of the House of Adgennus of the Clan Delbaeth, who was king of Cumbria. I challenge this man, now called Marc Remo but once Marcus Remus, a centurion supernumerai of the First Legion of Caesar. Two months ago, he killed Derek Newbern, an Immortal and a man I loved. He has killed others close to me for the last two thousand years, starting in the year 62, Common Era, after Queen Boudicca's revolt, when he killed my father, my brother, and my betrothed, and drove my mother and my dear younger sister to suicide. For centuries he has served empires to suppress human freedom, killing for money. For these and other crimes, I demand satisfaction." She held up her sword in front of her in the traditional challenge pose. 

"What does the challenged one say?" Methods asked formally. 

"I am who she says, and I have done what she says - but I deny responsibility for the deaths of her mother and her poor sister. That was not my doing. I have never fought just for money. I have killed in battle as a soldier, doing what a soldier does, nothing more or less. There was no room for idealism 2,000 years ago, and there isn't much more today. I have never wanted this vendetta, but I accept her challenge." He held up his Iberus in front of him, backing up his words. 

Methos stepped back out of the way. "Then let the battle begin. By the ancient custom, there is no quarter. It cannot end until one takes the head of the other. Now, fight!" His voice had been strong and unwavering, but he looked away and shook his head. 

Alex shouted _"Andraste!"_ name of the Celtic warrior goddess of victory and the battle cry of the Iceni warrior-women and charged towards Marcus. Marcus stood in place for a split second. Then he yelled out _"Ave Roma!,"_ and rushed forward to meet her. Their swords crashed together so hard that sparks flew. Ceirdwyn ran into Cassius' arms. They held each other tightly, their minds racing. 

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO - BATTLE ROYAL**

From the start Marcus could see something very different in Alex. Besides her more athletic build, her face - always filled with burning hatred - had a cold fury to it. She was thinking more, and she was far faster. "How did that happen?" Her blows were swift and powerful, though he was still blocking them. Still, there were more of them, from more directions. A sudden thrust surprised him, and he barely twisted out of the way in time. 

"Damn you," he cursed himself. "Stop thinking so much and move! She's got you on the defensive! She's even better now..." The last few victories had not been easy ones. Each time, Alex had learned from her mistakes and gotten better. Each fight had taken longer. "I always knew this day would come," he realized, as he drove her back with two powerful swipes. "This is the day I have to kill her, or she...will... kill me." Even so, he looked at her face, studied her eyes and skin as they silently circled each other. "Steroids!" The answer leapt at him. It explained the flushed complexion and the scratching. 

"They're working," Alex thought, circling. "The steroid treatments are working. I just may kill this Roman pig today." She had been using them since after that Christmas of 2001. She had increased her weight-lifting and practice, and studied everything that she could. "Even if he hadn't murdered poor Derek, this day would have come" she thought. After Derek's death, she had increased the shots of estrogen, niacin, even Nadrolone, and Stanazol - anything to give her an edge. It was worth the damned itching and flushed complexion; she was a warrior, not a supermodel. She could do nothing else until Marcus Remus was finally dead. 

A quick jab by Marcus ripped her sleeve, and she pulled back. "Don't screw it up, now!" she told herself. "You can kill him. You can finally kill him." She changed tactics and made a series of quick feigns, followed by a sudden jab that caught Marcus in the leg. He winced in pain, and Alex smiled when she saw the blood. 

"My God," whispered Ceirdwyn. "She may beat him this time." 

Filled with new confidence, Alex lunged forward, but the ex-centurion pulled back in time to avoid the thrust, then slipped around and used his greater reach to jab her in the shoulder, drawing blood and a cry of anguish from the former Celtic princess. 

Cassius leaned over to Ceirdwyn and whispered "Then again, maybe not." 

Silently cursing her overconfidence, Alex pulled back. Like two lions they circled each other as their wounds healed. They feigned and jabbed at each other, their eyes blazing with a rage that had been burning for almost two thousand years. 

Marcus remembered Alex's tendency to let rage overcome her. He sneered and smiled cruelly. "Newbern must have really cared for you. The cheating little crud called your name before I cut his freaking head off!" 

It worked. Alex charged with a feral growl on her lips. She tried to slice at Marcus' head, but he blocked her. Then she blocked a counterthrust from Marcus. They stood their ground, the sparks flying again as they struck at each other. Neither one could get a clear advantage, but then they closed the space between them. Alex struck out at Marcus with her free hand, catching him on the jaw. All it did was get him angrier. 

"Fine with me!" he snapped, and he caught Alex with a savage kick to her midsection that sent her sprawling into the dirt. Alex held on to her sword and swiftly rose to one knee, holding it out to keep Marcus away while she caught her breath. 

Marcus slowly shook his head. "You Celts always were at home in the dirt." 

Cassius looked at Ceirdwyn and gently moved her back. "I must act now," he said. Something in his voice filled her with cold fear for him. 

But before she could say anything Alex jumped up and cursing in ancient Gaelic, charged at Marcus again. 

They struck at each other simultaneously and their swords locked at the grips. They struggled silently as each tried to gain the advantage of balance. Marcus began to push and Alex resisted with a strength belying her smaller frame, but gradually he began to force her down. Alex tried to duck sideways and break away, but Marcus hooked one leg behind her and clamped her in place. She was no match for Marcus' superior strength at such close quarters and she knew it. Desperately, she tried to head-butt him, but he ducked his head in time. Slowly her knees began to buckle and he continued to slowly push her down. 

"Damn you Raven," he hissed through clenched teeth. "This is the day I have to kill you. Why couldn't you just let it go?" 

"Go to hell," she swore. "I'll take your head yet." 

The sound of rushing feet made them both look in time to see Cassius rushing towards them. He stopped mere inches away. "Stop this!" he demanded. "Both of you stop this now! This is a sin against God!" 

"Cassius, get back!" Marcus shouted. "This is her idea. It always has been." 

"You started this, Centurion!" Alex screamed. "You murdered everyone I ever loved. Murderer!" 

Before either could react, Cassius deliberately shoved his head between their blades and grabbed both their arms in an iron grip. You want to kill? Then kill me!" 

"Cassius, no!" Ceirdwyn screamed. She rushed toward him but Methos grabbed her from behind and pulled her back. Ceirdwyn was a strong woman, but she couldn't break the grip of the oldest living Immortal. 

"Let me go, you bastard!" she yelled. "This wasn't the plan! They'll kill him!" 

"No they won't," Methos replied. "He knows what he's doing." 

"Cassius, what the hell are you doing?" Marcus shouted in horror. 

Alex was equally stunned. "Don't Cassius. It is forbidden to interfere! Go!" 

It was Marcus who put down his sword first and pulled back. Unsure of what to do next, Alex straightened up and also stepped back. Methos let Ceirdwyn go, only to get a slap across the face that made him yelp in pain. Then she tearfully rushed into the arms of her lover, who was keeping himself between the two contestants. 

"Inquisito!" Cassius shouted, his booming voice carrying across the desert. "I claim the right of Inquisito!" 

Marcus just blinked and shook his head. 

"What the hell is Inquisito?" Alex asked, totally in the dark. 

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE: TRAIL BY QUESTION**

Marcus turned to Alex. "Inquisito was an informal judicial procedure in the Roman legions. A subordinate could ask for it if he felt his immediate superior was doing something he questioned." 

"Subordinate?" Alex made the connection and turned to Cassius. "You? You still consider him your commander?" 

"Yes, and if he is still a Roman centurion to you, then you must still see me as his decurion." 

Alex sighed. There was something very different about Cassius, something subtle. She remembered what Ceirdwyn had told her of his recent operation; it seemed to have made a hidden but profound change. "I never blamed you for any of this, Cassius," she said. 

"If we are Roman officers, then we are bound by Roman law." Cassius continued. "The subordinate could only ask questions, to make an inquiry into the issue. He could not actually make charges. Both parties could call witnesses. Any officer superior to them both would act as arbitrator, and decide what questions and answers were valid. For that role, I choose Methos." 

Everyone else turned to look at Methos. He heaved a profound sigh. "Not my idea," he muttered, "but I accept the job." 

Cassius turned to Marcus. "Do you accept my choice, my centurion?" 

Marcus nodded. "I'm American now Cassius. But I gave my word." He sheathed his sword. 

"As long as the inquiry was a reasonable one," Cassius continued, "even if the superior was in the right, the subordinate could not be punished." 

"And if the arbitrator decided the inquiry wasn't reasonable?" Alex asked. 

"Then the challenged superior could order punishment. Anything from a reprimand to death." 

Marcus stared at Cassius, whose face held no clue to his thoughts. 

"Oh God, no!" Ceirdwyn wailed. "Cassius don't do it!" 

"Relax, you dumb broad!" Marcus shouted, obviously annoyed. "You know I would never hurt my own son." 

Alex scoffed. "Who are you kidding? We've all heard stories of your cruelties to him, how you slap him around and how he takes it because he thinks you're his 'father'." 

"He _is_ my father," Cassius protested. "He was the only father I ever truly had. He has always been good to me." 

"With his fists?" Alex snorted. 

"Those stories aren't true, Raven." Marcus was calm, almost amused. "I've given him a few light 'love tap'" fooling around, like any Italian or Italian-American with his son. But I've never caused him pain..." Marcus looked into the eyes of his adoptive son, and he remembered. "...Except that one time, 2000 years ago. Probably the very year you were born. But I did that to save him. I had to do it." 

"What do you mean, you 'had to'?" Ceirdwyn angrily demanded. "Cassius, you never told me about this." 

Cassius gently put his hands on her shoulders. "Ceirdwyn now is not the time. That is not why we are here. We will talk of it later, please." Reluctantly, Ceirdwyn nodded. Cassius looked up at Methos. "Can we begin now?" 

Methos shrugged, and nodded. 

"Wait a minute!" Alex shouted. "I didn't agree to this. I came to kill this Roman pig, not debate!" 

Alex brought up her sword, but was stopped short by another blade pointed at her heart. She turned and was taken aback. It was Ceirdwyn. 

"No, Alex. I have loved you as I would a sister, but for once you are going to listen to me. We all fought the Nazis in World War Two; tell me, did you attend the Nuremberg trials?" 

This time, everyone stared open-mouthed at Ceirdwyn. "...Nuremberg?" Methos whispered. 

Alex blinked, jarred into an old memory. "I ...couldn't get into the courtroom, but I followed them avidly in every paper I could find-and I read the transcripts. Why?" 

"The Allies didn't catch all of them..." for an instant Ceirdwyn's voice choked up, and Cassius moved toward her. She waved him away. "The Israelis spent the next 50 years hunting them down. Were the Allies wrong to put the ones they did catch on trial, instead of just hanging them outright?" 

"No!" Alex's memories of those times returned in a rush. "It was necessary, if only to reveal to the world just what those monsters had done." 

"Then so is this. Think, Alex." 

Alex did. She sheathed her sword and turned her gaze back to Cassius. "By all means, ask your questions. I think much will be revealed." 

"Much indeed" Cassius said. "My first question is to you, Alex Raven. Why -now, *this* time-have you chosen once more to come after Marcus Remus?" 

"Because he killed my lover!" There was no mistaking the pain in her voice. 

Before she could say anything else, Cassius turned to Marcus. "Did you do it?" he asked. 

Marcus' voice was unapologetic. "Yes. He tried to kill me." 

"He was a novice!" Alex retorted. "He had no chance." 

"He had the help of several mortals - armed bandits. I had no choice." 

"You could have spared him!" she insisted. 

"I didn't even know who he was-until after the Quickening." 

Methos stepped forward. "A duel is a duel. Did your lover ever take any heads?" 

"Seven," Alex replied, looking at the ground. "But you know he was no match for Marcus!" 

"He apparently knew it too," Methos said. "That's why he used those bandits, for all the good they did him. That violates the rules of the Game." 

"It wasn't about the Game," she protested. "He did it for me." 

Cassius stepped forward. "It was still without honor, Alex. Why did you let him do it? You must have known what would happen." 

Alex shook her head "I didn't know anything about it. I left him in a monastery in Germany. I was in Nigeria, with Ceirdwyn." 

Cassius turned to his beloved. "What was that about, Cara Mia?" 

Ceirdwyn spoke gently to her lover. "There were women being imprisoned there for violating _Sharia,_ fundamentalist Islamic law. They were going to be stoned to death. We rescued them and took them to a Christian province where they would be safe. 

"Why didn't Derek go with you?" Cassius asked. 

Alex sighed. "I didn't think he was ready yet. I thought he'd be safe in the monastery. 

"Which monastery in Germany?" It was Marcus. His eyes were wide open. 

"St. Basil's, the Trappist monastery in Andechs. Why?" Alex eyed her long-time enemy suspiciously. 

Marcus did not answer directly. "Why? Why do you always let those poor fools come after me? You whine about your precious Cumbria, and then you wonder why your lovers look to avenge you against me. You and your damned self-pity!" 

Alex was not moved. "Don't you play your games with me, Centurion. I didn't kill them all! You did!" 

Marcus glared at her. "No, not all. You've lost a few to other people. Men who take up with you don't tend to last very long, mortal or immortal." 

"If you mean David, he had the misfortune to be Jewish, in Poland, when Hitler came to power!" Alex snarled, showing teeth. 

Marcus was not intimidated. "So how come he managed to survive until he took up with you?" He smiled at Alex disingenuously. 

Cassius could see that Alex was about to crack. He got between Marcus and Alex and spoke up. "Centurion Supernumerai Marcus Remus, I wish you to answer her question. Why is the name of the monastery important?" 

Marcus angrily pointed at Alex. "Because the stupid broad sent him to the same monastery Heinrich von Wulfe uses." The others all gasped - even Methos. 

Heinrich von Wulfe was perhaps the most universally despised of all immortals. He had been born in Ancient Germania in 20 B.C., and raised as the son and heir of a Teutonic king. To this day he believed in the utter superiority of the Germanic peoples; he had absolutely loved Hitler. Marcus and he had sworn to kill each other since the day they first met in 9 A.D. He was the only Immortal Alex hated almost as much as she hated Marcus, and Ceirdwyn hated him even more. 

"God, I didn't know!" Alex covered her face with her hands. "I didn't know..." She choked back a sob and forced down the tears. 

"He's some manipulator; I give him that," said Marcus. 

"How do you mean?" Methos asked. 

"He put the stupid kid up to it. If he succeeded, I'd be dead. If he failed, Raven would come after me and hopefully one of us would kill the other. Either way, he'd win." 

Ceirdwyn let out a howl of rage. "That filthy Nazi pig!" she shouted, and doubled over in tears. Cassius rushed to her side and took her in his arms. 

"Do you all have something against him?" Methos asked. 

"That is for later, Scythian," Marcus answered. "The Inquisito must continue." He turned to Cassius, who was still consoling Ceirdwyn. 

"Papa-Marcus, would you have killed Derek Newbern if he had not attacked you?" He knew the answer would not satisfy Alex, but he had to ask. 

Marcus shifted in the desert sand. "No. I had nothing against him." 

"He loved me!" Alex shouted. That was enough for you! It was for the others." 

Marcus' eyes were ablaze with indignation. "Damn it, woman! You've lost at least two lovers whose deaths I had no part in. That's not counting the few who made it to old age, no thanks to you." 

"No thanks to me?" Alex was stunned. "What the hell does that mean?" 

Marcus smiled bitterly. "It means you always get some poor fool, mortal or Immortal, so starry-eyed over you, that he usually gets killed in one of your crusades, especially your damned vendetta against me." 

Alex clenched her fists. "I have never asked any man to fight for me, except for one time." 

Marcus nodded. "I could see that from how lousy most of them fought. But all of them were trying to avenge their poor, damaged, beautiful lover. All because of your damned obsession. I lost count of how many of them came after me, sometimes with you chasing after them. You're lucky I spared most of them." 

"Only to kill most of them later," she countered. 

Marcus struck his forehead with his fist. "That was because they tried to kill me again. I only spare an opponent once." 

"But Marcus," Cassius interjected, "you have spared Alex fourteen times. Why haven't you killed her? You've killed women warriors before." 

Marcus glanced down at the dirt then faced Cassius. He said nothing. 

Methos spoke up. "The subject of the Inquisito must answer the question." 

Marcus glared at Methos. "Don't push me, Methos." 

"It isn't me that's pushing you, Marcus," Methos smiled bitterly. "It's your own law." 

Cassius gently let go of Ceirdwyn and approached his former centurion and adoptive father. He spoke softly. "Marcus, he is right. You must answer the question." 

Marcus shrugged. "I just didn't want to. She's got so much hate in her, maybe I just felt sorry for her." 

Alex's eyes flared and she opened her mouth, but Cassius spoke first. 

"You saved her life once in 1944. Why didn't you just let the Nazis kill her for you?" 

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR: THE PAST REVISITED**

It was true. In late 1944, Alex had tried to kill Adolf Hitler himself after two other Immortals, Duncan MacLeod and a German named Ingrid Henning had tried and failed. Alex too had failed, and been captured by Heinrich, then a senior officer in the Waffen-SS. She was bound hand and foot, about to be guillotined with him standing over her, ready to take her Quickening, when the unexpected occurred. 

"Oh yes, my brave rescuer." Alex was laughing bitterly. "I sensed his presence, and so did Heinrich. Suddenly a burst of submachine gun fire came out of nowhere, and Heinrich and six other Nazis fell. Then a tall figure with a hooded face, dressed in black, jumped onto the platform, slung me over his shoulder, and then carried me to a waiting staff car, still shooting a submachine gun with one hand. How utterly cinematic." 

Alex paced back and forth a few steps, looking at no one. "We raced off in a hail of bullets and managed to get clean away. I must admit I was impressed. But then he took off his hood, and I saw who it was." She glared at Marcus, her eyes burning with hatred. 

Cassius also turned to look at him. "Papa, why did you do that?" he asked gently. It couldn't have been only out of hatred for Heinrich." 

"Why else?" Alex snickered. "Because the Americans paid him." 

Marcus' eyes flashed with anger. "Of course they paid me. They gave me a paycheck every month, just like every other captain in the United States Army. Oh yeah, I forgot. I got hazardous duty pay too." 

"Still," Methos commented casually, "You could have just let her die. It would have been one less enemy after your head." 

"We were on the same side against a common enemy. She was considered a valuable Resistance leader, too important to let die. It wasn't about us; it was just another mission." 

"But it was a mission you volunteered for Marcus," Ceirdwyn said. I was in the British S.O.E. back then. I saw the mission records. You didn't have to go. Why did you?" 

Marcus averted his gaze from both women. "I figured I'd have a better chance than some poor mortal fool who didn't know what he was up against." 

Cassius moved closer to the man he called his father and put his hand on his shoulder. "That is only part of the truth, Papa. Just like your reason for sparing Alex." 

Alex was having none of it. "He kept me tied up. He even gagged me." 

Marcus only shrugged. "If I'd untied you, you would have tried to kill me again. I gagged you because you kept screaming at me. Hell, you would have alerted every German for twenty miles around." 

Alex refused to stop; she'd been thinking about this for decades. "And when the American B-26 bomber came to pick me up and take me to England, you still had me bound and gagged and slung over your shoulder like a piece of meat. You even ordered the crew not to untie me until they were out of German airspace!" 

Marcus nodded. "You're damned right I did! Knowing you, you would have jumped out of the plane at 2,000 feet, without a parachute, just to go after me." 

"I have no doubt of that," Methos chuckled, picturing the scene. 

Cassius pointed his finger at Alex. "He saved your life then!" 

"I owe him nothing!" Alex spat back. 

"I never said you did!" Marcus shouted at her. "I did my duty." 

"Was it your duty to serve Mussolini in Ethiopia, in 1935?" Alex asked sarcastically. "Duncan MacLeod told me about that." 

Ceirdwyn looked at Cassius in surprise. He nodded sadly. "I wasn't with him then, Ceirdwyn." 

Marcus patted his adopted son on the shoulder. "No Ceirdwyn, he wasn't there with me. As always his good heart saw things I was blinded to. I let myself be taken in. I thought maybe I could be part of an Italian resurgence - a new Rome. America had been my home for years then, but the Depression was on and everyone seemed so lost and disillusioned. Immigrants were returning home. There was nothing to fight for here, but with Mussolini, it looked like there was." 

"So you used rifles against people with spears?" Alex asked mockingly. 

"That's one of history's biggest myths" Marcus replied. "Most of them had rifles, and used them well - but when Mussolini used poison gas, I realized what a fool I'd been. That's why I wound up fighting beside Cassius in Spain, with the Republicans." 

"You were with the Republicans? Alex stared in genuine surprise. But they didn't have the money to hire someone like you." She too had served the Republican cause, but she had not run into any other Immortals at the time. She'd heard that MacLeod was with the Republicans and Heinrich was with the German forces aiding Franco, but she'd never seen them, either. 

"I didn't do it for money" Marcus growled. "I don't always fight as a mercenary. Ask your precious friend, MacLeod - the great idealist." 

Ceirdwyn was indignant. "Duncan is a good man - one of the best." 

Cassius nodded in assent. He too had always liked the amiable Scot, unlike Marcus, who considered him a do-gooder and a bleeding heart. 

Methos smiled wryly. "He is a bit of a Boy Scout though." 

Marcus continued. "I've fought beside him in several wars and against him in two. He can tell you that I was usually just another soldier - often an officer but still a regular soldier." 

"Much as I find that hard to believe," Alex sneered at him, "maybe you would do it in the cause of some empire. You could always loot like you did with the legions. They were world-class looters." 

Marcus sneered right back at her. "Oh, like your precious Celts and those Germans you served with didn't do the same thing? Taking booty was acceptable back then. All armies did it. You took what you could carry off." 

"Including women?" she asked accusingly. 

"Sometimes, in the earlier days," Marcus nodded. "But I was no rapist, and neither was Cassius. I didn't take you, did I? You sure as hell couldn't have stopped me." 

Alex began to snap back an answer, but Methos raised his hands. "We digress, good people. Let us recess for 30 minutes - and cool off - before this Inquisito resumes." 

_"Molto bene,"_ Cassius grinned. I have a lot of food in the helicopter." 

Everyone stared at him in surprise except for Marcus, who shook his head and smiled. He knew his son well. 

Cassius shrugged. "So what did you all expect? I'm Italian." 

Ceirdwyn laughed and took his arm as she went with him to help with the food. Even Alex couldn't totally suppress a smile. Some things about Cassius Polonius would never change. 

They ate quietly, dining on Italian deli sandwiches and drinking coffee or mineral water. Cassius had made the sandwiches himself. He knew a great little Italian place on North 7th Street in Phoenix that sold fresh Italian deli meats and cheeses. Ceirdwyn and Alex ate together while Marcus ate with Cassius. Methos ate alone. Marcus, noticing Cassius exchanging secretive adoring glances with Ceirdwyn, nudged him and indicated with a nod that it was okay to go to her. As Cassius walked over to the two women, Marcus kept his eyes on Alex. 

Cassius held out something wrapped in paper napkins and shyly offered it to Ceirdwyn. She opened it, then smiled broadly and gave him a grateful hug. 

Alex was puzzled. "What is that? It looks like a cactus pad with the spines removed." 

"That's exactly what it is," Ceirdwyn chuckled. It's a Sicilian variety of prickly-pear cactus. It's sweet and delicious and I love it." 

"How did he get you started on that?" She shot Cassius a glance that Marcus interpreted as condescending. 

"He took care of her while her 'big sister' was off saving the world again," the giant centurion answered with obvious sarcasm. 

"I called a recess," Methos reminded everyone. 

"Oh shut up, Methos!" Alex snapped, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. 

Ceirdwyn spoke up quickly to defuse the situation. "When I was...sick after World War II, Cassius took me to Sicily. He took care of me and arranged for Sean Burns to treat me. He used to bring this to me as a treat, all the time. He was so sweet and caring. She stroked the face of her gentle Roman giant. He blushed a little. 

"Of course he was," Alex agreed, feeling a little guilty. "He always has been. You were kind to me that time in 1944 Cassius, just as you were so long ago in Cumbria. You were always so gentle for - "she caught herself. 

"For a Roman?" Marcus finished. "Yes, he was. His mother, my dear Emilia, taught him that - but my son has always had a kind heart. Of course, to you I'm a monster and you're the champion of all that's good and right. But you always sought to take my head and I never wanted yours. All I ever asked was that you stopped challenging me and let Cassius alone." 

"Why would I want to hurt Cassius?" Alex was genuinely confused. He's everything you're not. He's kind and caring and gentle." 

"And trusting, sometimes way too much," Marcus added. You wouldn't be the first of my enemies to try to get at me through him. Why do you think I helped set him up in Hong Kong? I did it to protect him, as I always have." 

"And involved him in your battles" Alex retorted. 

"As you've involved Ceirdwyn and your lovers in yours!" Marcus was getting really steamed. He'd had enough of Alex's sanctimony. 

"None of them were brain-" 

"Alex, shut the hell up!" Ceirdwyn jumped to her feet, livid with anger. "Don't you dare finish that sentence or so help me I'll behead you myself!" 

Cassius got between the two women and looked around. "Am I here or not?" 

No one said anything. 

"Then please do not talk about me as if I were not." The hurt was evident. 

Marcus was genuinely regretful. "I'm sorry, Cassius. You know I would never want to - to be disrespectful to you." 

"Papa, I am getting better. Cassius was understanding but firm, I am not so stupid anymore. I can protect myself. I have for many years now." 

Marcus nodded. "I know that, but please, will you stop calling yourself stupid? You never were. Your brain was damaged by him and his damned elephant." He glared at Methos, his stare as angry as that day in 212 B.C. 

"Oh give it a rest Marcus" Methos said as he shook his head. "You're as bad as Raven here." 

The rage of centuries past filled Marcus' heart again. "I've kept my word to Cassius to leave you in peace, Scythian. As long as nothing happens to him, you still live. You laughed when you crushed his skull with your damned war elephant. You laughed! You left him immortal, but brain-damaged. It took me decades before I could get him functioning at anything nearly normal. You broke my Emilia's heart, and you laughed, you bastard! I've killed more than you, but I've never laughed at their pain." 

"I've told you before - I didn't know that would happen." There was indignation and fear in Methos' voice. "How could I? Even Grace Chandel told you what a fluke that was: a piece of bone lodged in the "immortality gland" in his brain, so his own body didn't recognize it for an injury. Cassius told me himself. For God's sake, he was fleeing and he hit his head on a tree branch and he knocked himself down. That elephant's method of killing enemy soldiers was to stomp on them, which is what it did. It was pure bad luck that it stomped his head instead of his chest. I was laughing at the utterly insane irony of it; the thing he was so afraid of was going to make him immortal." 

Marcus was still infuriated. "My son wasn't a coward! I was probably the only Roman at that time that had ever seen an elephant before. I killed that damned beast and if you hadn't run into a horde of Carthaginians, I would have killed you too." 

Methos dropped his head in exasperation. "I know he's no coward; in some ways he's braver than any of us. I've told you and him I regret it, and I really do. I know you raised him as your son, but it was war - which is your constant excuse - and in fact I was drafted into it." 

"You? Drafted? Come on, you're an expert in avoiding trouble. Tell me another one, you mook!" 

"It's true. Alcarissas wanted a lot of elephant-drivers, and knew I could handle the beasts. He concocted some sort of debt against my wife's family, and threatened to seize her and sell her into slavery to recover the debt - unless I rode his damned elephant. Believe me, that's the only reason I was there! You'll note I got my family the hell out of North Africa as soon after as I could." Methos looked around at the puzzled faces turned toward him. "Hmmm, or didn't your intelligence sources tell you all about that? I'm surprised." 

"They came later, Needle-Nose. I didn't hear anything about that." Marcus was unwilling to let go of his fury. "All I know is that I was there and I saw what you did!" 

"And I acted as a soldier, just like you!" Methos snapped back at him. 

"And you laughed like a hyena because of the 'irony'!" Marcus shouted. "The Horseman called 'Death' acted as a simple soldier. You only did it out of love. Right!" 

"I had gotten out of the Horsemen centuries earlier, and everything I told you was true. Yes, I was well paid, but we all were - like you in World War II. You've certainly fought solely for money often enough." 

Marcus sneered, "Yes, but at least when I do I admit it flat out!" 

Methos finally snapped. "I haven't been a mercenary for over 2,000 years. Damn it Marcus, I can't go on with your sword hanging over my head for what happened so long ago. Yes, I'm sorry for what Cassius has been through for so long, but I never expected or intended that. Yes, you've done a good job with him; even I have to admit that you're a loving father. Thanks mostly to you, he's survived for 2,000 years and found a true love we'll never know." He gestured towards Ceirdwyn, who was staring at him with a cold fury of her own. "He's the one and I hurt and he asked you to spare me. Despite what I did to him, he's forgiven me. Why can't the rest of you?" 

"Methos is not the issue, Papa." Cassius dragged their attention back. "This is about this vendetta between you and Alex. It must end." 

Alex began to weep softly. "Cassius, dear Cassius, it can only end in death. It's gone on for too long, piling up sins." Ceirdwyn sat beside her and held her hand. 

"Yes, you are right." Cassius replied. "It has gone on for too long. But have you ever asked yourself why my father has never killed you, even though he has often had the chance? You know you have been on the same side many times." 

"He spared me because he enjoyed toying with me. As for being on the same side, he did it for money and empire. I did it for freedom and justice." 

Cassius shook his head. "No, he has not always fought for money or empire. Most of those times I was with him, and I know." His words were filled with conviction. Ceirdwyn could see he spoke the truth, even if Alex didn't see it. 

"Cassius, he's your father. You're probably the one thing he can honestly be proud of. You're loyal to him - isn't he, Roman? Alex glared at Marcus. 

Marcus shook his head. "He's been his own man for a long time, even before the operation. I've never forced him to fight beside me, and sometimes he hasn't - though he's never fought against me. He convinced me to join him with the Republican army in Spain. We were with a Christian Democrat force. Who were you with?" 

"I fought beside the Anarchists and the Socialists, but never the Communists, if that's what you're implying. Did your employers pay you well?" 

It was Cassius who answered. "Neither of us took any money, and what he said about World War II is true. He was a regular officer in the American army. I know, he helped my partisan group many times." 

Methos gave him a curious look. "You would have been paid more as a civilian agent, Marcus. Why did you go into the military?" 

"Yes, Marcus," Cassius agreed. ""I ask you as your decurion, why you first joined the Canadian army to fight the Nazis, and then transferred to the American army?" 

Marcus hitched his shoulders again. "Because, like you, I hated the Nazis and the Fascists. I believe in law and order, and I have served proudly in many armies of conquest but I could never be a party to their barbarity. Not after Ethiopia. I joined the American Army because if I was beheaded, my remains would be buried in America, or at least in an American military cemetery, with my countrymen. I do have some beliefs. I'm just not a Utopian dreamer like Alex and MacLeod." 

Alex wasn't convinced. "Oh yes, we should all follow the practicality of Realpolitik like you. What do we get in countries like that? Banana republics, at best!" 

Marcus smiled bitterly. "I've lived in places like that, and usually they were empires. I served them for the sake of order and civilization, and some of them - like the British - were relatively decent. But then I saw corruption and decadence set in, every time, just as they did in Rome. Eventually, they were all destroyed or crumbled away. That's why I gave my allegiance to the Americans more than 200 years ago; they were something new in the world. I saw that with them, the world had a chance. I still believe that. That's why I resigned from the British army and joined the Americans. I'd first met George Washington during the French and Indian War, and I knew that this was the man who could give substance to the dreams." 

"Oh yes, you were with the British army earlier, weren't you?" Alex noted. "Like when you killed my Scottish lover, William MacDougal, at Culloden." 

. "It was a battle and he attacked me." Marcus turned to her. "Why did you tell him who I was? God, woman, even MacLeod knew that whole uprising was futile. He was there too. He could tell you. We avoided each other because we'd been friends once." 

"I didn't. I stopped telling anyone about you, long ago. Derek only knew about you because he said another Immortal told him - who, I don't know." 

"Maybe it was Heinrich," Cassius suggested. "He hates you both, as do a number of wicked Immortals." 

That insight surprised everyone, even Ceirdwyn. 

Methos bowed his head in thought and finally spoke. "It could have even been Grayson, before Duncan killed him, at least as far as that Scot was concerned." 

"Von Wulfe would never partner with that loose cannon, Methos" said Marcus. "Still, if anyone could manipulate an egotist like Grayson, it's Heinrich. I know he and Kalos and some others used to meet with him at times - for what I don't know. Between MacLeod and me, most of them have been decapitated." 

"I took out one of his friends in 1958," Alex added. 

Cassius turned to Alex. "As you said before Alex Raven, there were many things to be revealed, even to you." 

Alex shook her head. "That doesn't change the fact that he's often been the enemy of people trying to be free. I've done my homework; besides the Roman conquests he was in on the Crusades, the Italian Renaissance Wars, the Spanish conquest of Latin America, the British conquests of Ireland and Scotland, the French Revolution, the American-Mexican War and the American Indian Wars, the British conquests of Africa and Asia, the Spanish-American War, the suppression of the Boxer Rebellion, the Mexican Revolution-- quite a list, isn't it? And it gets longer: the British side in the Irish Rebellion, the Ukrainian War, the American subjugation of Latin America, the French side in the Algerian Uprising, the African Wars of the early 60s, Rhodesia, with the French then the Americans in Indo-China; there's been Marcus Remus or Marc Remo, or whatever he calls himself. Always fighting against freedom, either for money or some deluded idea of empire for the sake of world order. I was in many of those wars too, but on the side of human freedom and peace. Now he's fighting in Iraq, working for the CIA. Don't tell me he's not a mercenary." 

Marcus shook his head. "With today's security measures, there's no way I can get a regular commission in the American Army anymore. You know that." 

Cassius saw a chance. "Why did you serve those causes, Marcus? And what of the other wars you have fought in? Didn't the British offer you land and a title in 1775 if you stayed with them? Didn't the Confederates promise you a generalship and gold if you would organize guerrilla forces for them?" 

Marcus nodded. "That and more, but I refused and fought against them. I served the causes I thought were right, or at least no more wrong than their enemies." 

Methos put down the remains of his sandwich. "I guess the recess is over. Court is now in session." He rose and stood between Alex Raven and Marcus Remus once more. He looked at Cassius and then Alex with curiosity. He seemed lost in thought for a few seconds, and then spoke. 

"Cassius, you seem to be a major player in all this, and I'm curious about something Alex said earlier. Just what did happen between you two in 1944?" 

Cassius looked from Alex to Ceirdwyn, and then turned to Methos. "I was active with the partisans in Italy for most of the war. At the time I was in Milan, posing as a Catholic priest. Alex was leading a group of 20 Jews she had smuggled out of Poland. I helped a little to get them into Switzerland." 

Methos smiled slyly. "Reports say there was more to it than that. Wasn't Darius involved too?" 

Cassius was puzzled. "Yes, of course. He was a leader in the Assisi Underground. My partisan group worked with them and together we took the Jews to Switzerland. But why do you bring him up?" Cassius remembered the barbarian-turned-monk fondly. Darius had made the medicine that had slowed the deterioration of his mind and kept Cassius lucid for long periods until his recent surgery. Cassius had always been extremely grateful; Marcus slightly less so. 

Marcus knew Methos too well. "Because he wants to slip in a little bombshell, right Needle-Nose?" 

"Only a little one." Methos smiled agreeably. 

Ceirdwyn frowned, then walked up to Methos and jabbed him in the chest with her finger. "Bugger off, Methos. I know Methos and Alex were lovers briefly. They both told me, a long time ago. I never blamed either of them; Alex had lost her mortal lover during the Warsaw Ghetto uprising and I had taken up with David Fielding. I was hurt because Cassius had told me once more that he couldn't marry me." 

"I knew about it too, Methos," Marcus added. "This only proves what I said about Cassius being too trusting sometimes, not to mention having bad taste in women." 

Ceirdwyn turned on him, livid. "Shut your mouth, Marcus." 

Marcus wouldn't. "You shut your pie-hole, you dumb broad! You claim you love my son and you've been married to at least three other guys since you've met him." 

Cassius got between them. "This is not the time for that! Please, I love you both. Papa, you know in your heart that Ceirdwyn is a good woman. She wanted to marry me, but I did not want her to marry a man who was...not right." Then he turned to Ceirdwyn. "Cara Mia, I know you and my father do not always agree, but he helped me find you and take you out of that hospital in 1945. He is not an evil man." 

Neither Marcus nor Ceirdwyn said anything. 

Cassius faced Methos. "I wish to resume the Inquisito. Marcus Remus, Alex Raven, born Princess Ailia of the Clan Delbaeth has listed the times you fought on opposite sides. What is your response?" 

Marcus glared at Alex. "My response is that I never went into a war on the side of a cause I believed at the time to be wrong, even when I did fight for money. Her compatriots weren't all so noble either." 

"At their worst they were better than any of yours at their best" Alex protested. 

"Tell that to the innocent people _they_ killed!" Marcus growled. 

Cassius held up his hand to silence them both. "My next question," Cassius said, "is to our judge. Methos, you hid among the Watchers under the name Adam Pierson, for many years. What do you know of the activities of Alex Raven and Marcus Remus?" 

Methos glanced at Alex and Marcus, and then faced Cassius. There was no surprise on his face, and Marcus realized he had to know Cassius would ask him that question. The thought that they were working together nearly stunned him, but it didn't show on his face. Surprise rarely did. Still, he had a surprise or two of his own. 

Methos finally spoke. "I know that besides the Second World War, they have fought on the same side on a number of occasions, especially in the last 200 years. Both fought for America during its revolution. Alex Raven was a spy and courier, while Marcus was a captain in the Continental Dragoons, an elite cavalry unit. Apparently, their paths never crossed." 

"He was my commanding officer," Cassius added. He turned to Alex. "And I assure you Alex that it was not for money. The British offered him a title, higher rank, land, and a fortune in gold if he would stay loyal to them. He refused." 

Alex was still defiant. "And he fought for them against the British during the War of 1812, didn't he? While I was disguised as a man and fighting in the British army as an infantry soldier against the dictator Napoleon Bonaparte; however indirectly, Marcus was helping him." 

Marcus shook his head. "We had good reasons for fighting the British, lady. I was proud to serve my adopted country in that war. I even fought beside Andrew Jackson at New Orleans. That's how I finally caught up with Needle-Nose here - right Methos?" 

"That's irrelevant," Methos responded. "But if it will satisfy your ego, I freely admit you defeated me, humiliated me, and would have killed me if not for Cassius, for which I've thanked him. From the late 1810s to the 1840s, Alex Raven was in South America and Europe, fighting for nationalist and independence causes - among them, the revolutions in Mexico and Argentina, where Marcus Remus also fought for the independence forces." 

"I'm genuinely surprised," Alex said, a look of curiosity on her face. "Why? Didn't the Spanish want to meet your price?" 

Marcus shrugged. "No, I just wanted them out of the Western Hemisphere so they couldn't threaten the United States." 

"So the Americans could have Latin America for themselves?" 

"Oh sure!" Marcus roared. Have you seen the United States march armies into every country in Latin America, set up their own rulers and military outposts and run the countries for their own benefit? Bull! They just arranged for trade, and left those banana republics to rule themselves - and a lousy job most of them have made of it, too. That's way better than what the freaking British or French did, that's for freaking sure! You talk big for somebody who sent innocent people to the guillotine, you and your damned French Revolution!" 

"Most of that was Robespierre's doing," Alex shouted back, "and it's fitting that e wound up on the guillotine himself. I just fought for the freedom of the French people." 

"Yeah, you set them free - free to kill children, priests, nuns, even people who worked for nobles as house servants." 

"A compressed spring rebounds hard," she countered. "All causes have their excesses, especially yours," she countered. 

"The Americans drove out the Tories but they didn't slaughter them in carloads. And I'm not the holier-than-thou one here, sister! 'Compressed spring' my tail!" Marcus spit in the sand and kicked at it. 

Alex suddenly guessed Marcus' point. "There was more than one 'Scarlet Pimpernel'. I helped save many innocent people from the Revolution's zealots too." 

"So did I," Marcus shouted back, "And not just people who could pay a fortune either. You didn't know I was there, but I saved you too. Cassius was there, and if you don't believe him, ask your former Celtic playmate here." He pointed at Ceirdwyn. 

"It's true, Alex." Ceirdwyn smiled gently. "That time you were about to be guillotined, when Cassius and I liberated you and the others from prison the night before your execution, Marcus was there. He created the diversion that enabled us to slip in and then he fought a delaying action that let us all escape." 

Alex's mouth fell open. "It can't be. I never saw him." 

"No," said Cassius. "You did, but he was far off and wearing a mask. You must have sensed him, but you didn't know who he really was." 

"I thought it was Connor MacLeod!" Alex glared angrily at Ceirdwyn. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"Why?" Ceirdwyn shrugged. "So you could try to kill him and ruin the whole escape? I meant to tell you later, but by then he had killed Jean-Claude. There didn't seem to be any point." 

"Jean-Claude," Alex whispered. He had been an Immortal who had first died over less than twenty years earlier while fighting with Lafayette in America. She had loved him dearly, and had told him little of her origin. Somehow he found out about Marcus, and went after him. Like all the others, he had lost. 

Marcus was stone-faced. "I suppose you didn't sic him on me either." 

Alex shook her head fiercely. "No, I told you I only did that once." 

"Then how did they know about me? How did they know what I looked like or where to find me, if not for you hunting me and whining about me?" 

"Don't flatter yourself, Roman! I kept tabs on you as best I could, but I don't have your resources. I trained every day for the time I would finally take your head, but I didn't waste my life stalking you. I attacked you to avenge my loved ones - which you've made a habit of doing." 

Marcus gave her a skeptical look. "Like that's much better? I figure I've killed around seven of your boyfriends over the centuries, but I've had to kick your butt twice that many times - including now. What was with the other times?" 

"Those were times you had killed comrades or friends, or helped defeat freedom fighters. Then there were the times you were between wars and just there. There weren't many of those." 

Marcus snickered. "Oh yeah, freedom fighters - like the IRA. It was a pleasure to be with the Black & Tans against those swine." 

"Really?" Alex smiled frostily. "They did manage to win freedom for better than four-fifths of Ireland, if you'll recall." 

"Oh sure, and then they wanted the rest of the pie for themselves afterward so they could turn all of Ireland into Cuba with a brogue! Remember your little friend, Anne Devlin, that fanatical witch? She was the one who wanted to behead that poor kid, Richie Ryan." 

"Anne was a great freedom fighter once," Alex backpedaled. She got caught up with the Provos and lost her way - and the gods know, we've seen that happen before." She did a double-take. "What about Anne?" Her voice was loud and desperate; she could guess the rest. 

"I took her damned Irish head last year. She was gunning for me too." 

"Damn you!" Alex screamed, losing control. 

She reached for your sword, but Ceirdwyn stopped her. "The Inquisito is still in session, Alex. Don't let him goad you." In a whisper she added: "He always gets to you that way." 

Marcus laughed. "Me goad her? That's rich! She lists almost every cause I've ever fought for the last 200 years like I've always been on the side of the devil. She leaves out the times we were on the same side, even if we never met. Like the time when we both smuggled guns for Juarez in Mexico, and helped his army. We both knew the other was there. Why didn't you come for me then, Princess?" 

"I figured you were helping the right side for once, even if it was for money." 

"Like the French wouldn't have paid me double? I was working for the United States to kick the French out of Mexico. That's why I took Prussian money to fight against them later on. I wanted Louis Napoleon out of power. You sure as hell didn't like him, either." 

"You did it for money, empire, and power," she insisted. "That's all you ever fight for." 

"B.S., lady. I rarely take a rank higher than captain, and I rarely advise kings or presidents - like when I helped the Egyptians defeat the Mongols in the late 13th Century because I was afraid they'd return to Europe if they won. Was I opposing the forces for freedom then? Did Cassius and I oppose freedom when we helped beat back the Arabs at Tours in 732? Or when we fought for the Holy Roman Empire and brought some unity and order back to Europe? We both fought for the Union during the American Civil War, same as you, and Jefferson Davis offered me plenty!" 

"It's true, Alex," said Ceirdwyn, looking at her childhood friend with sorrow and sympathy. "Whatever else he may be after; I've never known him to seek power for himself. He's not into that anymore than you are. Neither of you has ever sought personal power or glory." 

"As for money," Cassius added, "he gathered enough wealth during-- the early days to last him another 5,000 years. I should know." 

"That's for sure," Marcus grinned at his son. "Investing with your company was the best financial move I ever made. I've got to give it to you, Son; you really are a financial whiz." 

Cassius smiled. "You taught me well, Papa. After so many years, the ways of people are not so hard to understand - even for someone like me. Who better to invest for the 'long term' than us?" 

"Okay, okay, so he doesn't need the money." Alex's annoyance was obvious. "What is this, the CNN Financial Network? He's still dedicated most of his life to empires and superpowers, even before I was born. When Rome fell, he joined the Byzantines; hardly the world's most enlightened rulers. Not to mention Charlemagne with his Holy Roman Empire. Always more damned empires." 

"That's pretty much all there was back then, and they were better than nothing." 

"Nothing?" Alex bridled. "Like the Republic of Venice? Or the Swiss? Or the Icelanders?" 

"They took care of themselves, but didn't do much for the rest of the world," Marcus snapped. "What was I supposed to do, let a hundred petty kings and warlords run wild across Europe? What would 'freedom and liberty' have been worth then? And let's not forget 'justice'. You're big on that too - you and your surrogate sister, here." Marcus jerked a thumb toward Ceirdwyn. What you really want is vigilantism." 

"Sometimes it works far better than official courts in corrupt nations and empires" Alex protested. "Where do you think public assemblies and juries came from, rather than just letting judges decide everything?" 

Marcus shook his head. "It never works in the long run. When individuals do it, they eventually start thinking they're gods. Look at what Ingrid became before MacLeod finally whacked her. When groups do it, they get power mad and start killing innocents. Look at the Ku Klux Klan and the Brazilian death squads, not to mention all those labor movements and radical unions you've championed in the last 200 years." 

"Look at the difference they made!" Alex snapped back. "Why do you think there's such a thing as the 8-hour-day, or the minimum wage?" 

"And they poisoned people with class envy!" Marcus was never at a loss for an answer. "They destroyed the work ethic in Europe and many of them became thugs, gangsters, and vigilantes in America." 

"And there was never any 'class envy' before there were unions?" Alex fumed. "Who were the Jaquerie?" 

"Just another bunch of fools who made things worse in the end." Marcus didn't give up easy. 

Methos grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "You haven't always been above vigilantism yourself, Marcus." 

Marcus was not silenced. "Only with our own kind. Mortal justice is meaningless in our cases. I always let mortal justice deal with mortals, whenever I could. Your 'Boy Scout' buddy MacLeod can't say that, and neither can the Princess of Cumbria here. But what do you expect from a woman who was stupid enough to join the Bolsheviks?" 

Cassius and Methos looked at Alex curiously. Ceirdwyn looked away for a few seconds. Cassius thought that Alex actually looked a little embarrassed. Methos clicked his tongue and shrugged. "A number of us made that error, even MacLeod. I wasn't aware you had too Alex. It couldn't have been for very long." 

Alex gave Marcus a withering stare he pointedly ignored. "It wasn't. I thought they were going to end Russian participation in World War I - which had degenerated into no more than a wasteful rivalry between outdated empires. I left when I saw how evil they really were, especially Stalin and Trotsky." 

"And then you joined that Anarchist idiot Makhno in the Ukraine!" Marcus threw his hands up. "Talk about lost causes." 

Alex was livid. "Nestor Makhno was a brilliant general, and a greater man than most of your precious emperors. He set up a just society that worked." 

Nestor Makhno had been one of the great Anarchist leaders. While still in his twenties he had gained control of the Ukraine and successfully fought off the White army, the Red army, the Polish army, and all others who had tried to seize that valuable farming land. 

"He was a great loser is what he was. When I left the American army after World War I, I became an officer in the Polish army. I spent the Russo-Polish War fighting off the Russians. Only our second-rate units went after Makhno. He was lucky -- unless maybe you were a 'trusted confidante'?" 

"He invented the 'tachanka' whole cloth," Alex snarled. You didn't think of that one." 

"And a lot of good it did him against Trotsky," Marcus retorted. Alex's silence told him he had hit home, and he snickered. 

"He was young and trusting," Alex finally responded. "He made a mistake because he wanted peace. He trusted the wrong people." 

"Yeah, Leon Trotsky. He believed that freaking weirdo when he promised a truce and the next thing he knew he was in Paris with all the other exiles, writing essays nobody with half a brain ever read again. Then he died of 'a broken heart' - more likely, a booze-rotted liver. What romantic garbage! A hell of a lot of good you did him." 

"He was tricked, like a few million other innocent people." Alex fought desperately to control her rage. "At least my motives were better than yours. People need more than order, especially when the price is oppression. I fought to give people land; you fought to take it from them." 

"You think I don't know that? Why do you think I became an American? Sure they made mistakes; everybody does, including all those "liberators" you've supported. I've got news for you, lady. After the war between America and Mexico, I fought for the rights of Mexican landowners in the new territories who'd been pro-American during the war. That was after you ran back to Europe to lick your wounds." 

Alex stared at Marcus in something close to shock. "I don't believe you" she muttered. "You've always been for 'To the victors belong the spoils.'" 

"If you take them from your enemies, yes - but I've never stolen from an ally or a friend - and don't bring up your precious Cumbria; Cumbria was never either." 

Cassius stepped forward. "It is true, Alex. I was with him then. We did all we could without resorting to banditry. We knew that would do more harm than good. At least in some cases, we were successful." 

Alex shook her head. "Yes, you're full of surprises, Centurion - but that doesn't erase all the harm you've done. There are just too many good people dead because of you." 

"And none because of you?" Methos cut in. "Much as he and I can't stand each other, he's right about one thing. In war, sometimes decent people kill decent people. It just can't be helped." 

"Then why does he like war so much? Why has he made his living at it for close to 5,000 years? Even Methos grew weary of it thousands of years ago. I've spent my life doing many things that often involved violence, but I never sought out wars to fight, and I never fought for a tyrant unless..." Her voice trailed off. 

Marcus finished the sentence. "Unless it was against a greater tyrant. I know that's what I often did." 

"The lesser of two evils," Alex sighed, "Like all too many elections." 

"You do your best with what you've got, Princess!" Marcus snapped. 

Cassius approached his father, his eyes full of sadness. "I must ask these questions, because the truth must be known." 

"Ask away," Marcus shrugged. "I agreed to this, after all." 

"During the Thirty Years War, you told me I did not have to fight by your side any longer, unless I wanted to. Why?" 

Marcus sighed. "I wanted you to have your own life, and I saw that Darius' medicine was helping you; you could function well with it." 

Cassius looked straight into his father's eyes. "Was that all, Papa?" 

Marcus looked right back at him. "Of course not; I saw your face after I killed Gustav Adolph, the king of Sweden. I knew you had no stomach for that war, so I let you go home. I figured that the medicine would keep you safe, but making you stay by my side would have hurt you more than I would allow. I knew others of our kind would come after me, and I wanted you out of the way." 

"Darius tried to convince you to go with me. You beat him up. Why did you do that?" 

"You attacked Darius?" Alex gasped. 

The others were stunned. Darius had been a revered figure among the "good" immortals; they couldn't imagine why even Marcus would do such a thing. 

Marcus' voice betrayed no regret. "He started in again with that 'You shouldn't be part of this tragedy' speech, like he gave MacLeod and how many others. I wasn't taking that from him." 

Alex was indignant. "He gave me the same speech at Waterloo. He wanted Immortals to stay out of mortal wars. I told him it was a good idea, but I wasn't ready for it yet: not with so much oppression in the world. You didn't have to hurt him for that! You're just a brutal bastard." 

"Maybe," Marcus shrugged, but I had reason to hate his guts. He brought the barbarians to Rome; he helped destroy it." 

"Another thousand-year grudge, "Methos murmured. 

"Then he cut down the oldest living Immortal at that time, "Marcus plowed on, "And all of a sudden, he was Mr. Nice - transformed he said, by a 'Bright Quickening', if you believe that. When I first caught up with him, he wouldn't fight. He didn't even have a sword - but he knew I could never kill an unarmed man, the coward. After that, whenever we ran into each other, he'd give me lectures about fighting in mortal wars - 'unfair advantage', he said. I finally snapped. That Holy Joe pacifism made me nauseous. He's lucky he had given that medicine to Cassius a few years earlier or maybe I would have done a lot worse than slap him around." 

"Good thing you didn't," Methos said, very quietly. 

Cassius smiled sadly. "No, you would never have beheaded him. You are a soldier and a warrior, not a murderer." 

"Oh yes he is," Alex hissed. Before she could say any more, Ceirdwyn put her finger to her lips and made a "stop" gesture with her other hand. 

Methos took a deep breath. "Remus, who else was in those wars, usually as your enemy? Any others of our kind that you knew?" 

"A few and most of them are dead. Of course, I know you're probably referring to that slime ball Heinrich, right?" 

Methos' surprise was evident. "So you knew he was there?" 

"Of course and we fought a few times. I could never kill him because he always had stooges, mortal and immortal, who helped him get away. He finally gave up trying to behead me, at least directly." 

Alex's eyes widened. "That miserable coward did the same thing with me during the Middle Ages! He was good, he almost had me, but I managed to get the upper hand. Just when I was about to take his head, two damned mortal archers popped up and started shooting arrows at me. I barely got away with my life." 

"He's good at that, using mortal flunkies" Ceirdwyn said softly. Like when he got that bastard von Bock to murder David and..." she couldn't finish. She started sobbing, and Cassie silently took her in his arms. 

Alex walked up to her and gently patted her shoulder. "It's all right, sister. We're here. It's all right." 

Marcus squinted at Methos. "Von Wulfe was an "oberfuhrer" in the SS, von Bock's commander. He was behind their capture. He let von Bock set them up so he could take her head. But of course, as a Watcher you knew that, didn't you?" 

Methos nodded but said nothing. Sixty years later, he could see the scars were still there. "Why not?" he thought. "Doesn't Cassandra still hate me?" A great disadvantage of immortality was the tendency to carry grudges across centuries. 

"He never got there to finish the job," Marcus went on. "He was on his way, but his staff car was nailed, and he barely got away. I was looking for him, but then Cassius asked me to help him find Ceirdwyn, so I stopped." 

"I thought you didn't like her very much". Methos shifted uncomfortably, remembering how he had treated women in his Horseman days. 

"My son loves her. I saw how much when he spent over a year in Sicily taking care of her with Sean Burns' help. There's never been a woman who could really win him away from her. She's married mortals and she used him to get von Bock, but he still loves her - and she always comes back, sooner or later." Marcus shook his head, either in disgust or amazement. 

Ceirdwyn finally regained her composure. "Resume the Inquisito" she said, and gently pulled away from Cassius, smiling to show she was well. 

Methos spoke up. "Marcus, the Watchers always thought it odd that you and Cassius so often came up against Germans. Any reason for that?" 

"Darius' group noticed that too, Needle-Nose." He could see the oldest living Immortal was surprised by the comment. He nodded. "Yeah, I know you had contacts with them, too. I know all about how you used them and the Watchers to try to keep tabs on me, like I used them and so many other sources to keep tabs on Cassius, you, Heinrich, even Her Royal Highness, here." He turned to Alex, who seemed to be stunned. "Yeah, I kept an eye on you. I avoided you because I didn't want to keep fighting you all the time. Except for the wars. I don't stay out of a war for anyone, especially not you. How have you kept tabs on me?" 

"As I said," she replied coldly, "I don't have your resources, but I do have friends and contacts. Besides, other friendly Immortals I come across tell me about you." 

Methos crossed his arms and furrowed his brow. "Were they Germans?" 

Alex was puzzled. "Some of them were, but not all. Why?" 

"I'm just trying to figure a few things out." Methos exchanged glances with Cassius, and Marcus noticed. Something was going on between these two, and he had a pretty good idea what it was. 

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE: REVELATIONS**

Before Marcus could say anything, Ceirdwyn stepped forward. "Marcus, Alex asked an interesting question that was never answered. If you don't fight for power, money, or glory, just why do you like war so much?" 

Marcus frowned angrily. "Who says I like it?" 

"You've been specializing in it for almost 5,000 years." 

"There's always been another battle to fight, something to defend. Ask your friend Raven over here. She's been at it for awhile too." 

"Not like you Centurion," Alex shot back. "I've fought in the union struggles and social movements, plenty of causes that didn't involve open warfare." 

Marcus pursed his lips. "Oh, of course. There was your long service to the Jewish Underground and the Mossad with Max, your adoptive son-turned lover-turned-father. I heard about him dying in that nursing home you had to put him in. Too bad, but at least you can't blame me for that. You took up with Newbern soon after that, didn't you?" 

Alex's eyes narrowed with cold fury. "Yes, what of it?" 

"Nothing, really. It's just that Max was one of your few lovers to die of natural causes. Also, you didn't grieve very long." 

Seeing what was happening, Cassius quickly stepped forward. " _Basta_ \- enough! The Inquisito is still in session. Marcus, I ask you, were there any times you were not at war? Did you ever live a peaceful life?" 

Marcus frowned and scratched his chin. "There were lulls, quiet periods. I usually worked as a lawman, a private detective, a bodyguard, even a professional hunter. They never lasted very long. You know that, Cassius." 

"Yes Papa, but were there times you did things that did not involve violence?" 

Marcus smiled. His eyes seemed to be looking into the past. "After the Crimean War and the Sepoy Mutiny I did work for a couple of years as first mate on a Mississippi riverboat. I still remember the name - the 'Delta Queen'. It was kind of fun, actually." 

Methos scratched his head. "I never heard about that one. Why'd you leave?" 

Marcus chuckled. "There's a lot you don't know, Needle-Nose," Marcus chuckled. "You think I didn't know what you were trying to do in the Watchers? It's amazing how many of those idiots respond to good old-fashioned bribery." 

"Just answer the question," Methos replied testily. 

Marcus shrugged. "The Risorgimento broke out in Italy, and then the American Civil War. No way were Cassius and I going to stay out of those. Then one thing just led to another. I've never adjusted to peacetime for very long." 

"Odd," Alex snickered, "considering that you claim not to like war." 

"It's what I do, what I've always done. It's the life I've made, for better or worse. For all your talk, you always need some kind of a fight too." 

"There is a medical term for that, Papa," Cassius cut in. "It is called 'combat drift.'" 

"Hell, there's a medical term for everything, including scratching your ass," Marcus snorted. "What's this got to do with the fight?" 

"Forgive me, Papa, but I think you suffer from it." Cassius shook his head. I discussed it with Sean Burns back in 1946, when he was treating Ceirdwyn." 

"You talked with that quack about me behind my back?" Marcus was dumbfounded. "For God's sake, Cassius, do you really think I'm nuts?" 

Everyone could sense Cassius' pain in his reply. "No, Papa. But I knew even then you were weary of war - and yet you never stopped. You still haven't. You were my father. I was worried for you." Then he turned to Alex. "And don't think I didn't see you gloating. You are no better off - is she Cara Mia?" 

"Alex, after I got better, I talked to Sean too," Ceirdwyn admitted. I think this problem troubles you too sister." 

"What the hell are you talking about?" Alex seethed. I can believe this Sicilian-Roman-American bastard is crazy, but where do you get off saying I am? Damn it, Ceirdwyn, we've been friends since childhood. You were my teacher." 

"If I hadn't been, you would have lost your head ages ago. Alex, you know I don't think you're crazy, but you still have the lust for something more than vengeance. It's driven you on for two thousand years. Oh yes, occasionally you take lovers, devote yourself to social reform causes, live in relative peace for awhile, but it never lasts." 

"There are always injustices crossing my path! You wanted vengeance too, Ceirdwyn. You came back to join me. Together, we helped destroy Rome." 

"I went back to Britain first to find Cassius after you settled down in Eire to raise your baby sister, Cottia. The Romans had a more humane administration by then. I wanted him to be my teacher." 

Methos frowned. "According to the Watcher Chronicles, Marcus Constantine was your first teacher, Ceirdwyn." 

"What?" snapped Alex, indignant. 

"Yes, he was," Ceirdwyn confirmed. "Cassius didn't think he was smart enough to teach me. Remus here didn't want to be my teacher and I didn't want him either. So Cassius took me to Constantine. He was a good teacher and Cassius still managed to instruct me a bit. I was grateful to them both." 

"Constantine!" Alex shook her head. "You let that dog be your teacher, even though he'd commanded the invasion of Cumbria. I find that hard to accept." 

"I didn't know about that until later Alex. Constantine wasn't evil or harsh. He was like a second father to me. He wasn't like Remus here; he gave up warfare ages ago." 

"And from the stories we've heard, it just may have cost him his head," said Marcus. "You had a strange way of showing your gratitude. You went to Scotland and joined up with Her Royal Highness here." 

Ceirdwyn shook her head. "Rome eventually went back to its old ways. Before we left Britain, Cassius had time to tell us only a little about immortality. I heard that Ailia...Alex, was living with the Picts. So I went to Scotland and became her teacher. She needed a friend, so we stayed together for a long time." 

"Yeah" Marcus injected. "You two joined up with the Germans and even Heinrich to destroy Rome. Every so often you'd come back into Cassius' life to try to get him to desert. It never worked, though. At least you didn't drag that poor kid Cottia into your vendetta." 

"Leave her out of this, Roman!" Alex snapped. "She was mortal." 

"Yeah, and what does it matter? You married her off to an Irish prince, she had five kids, and she died in peace at 68 with twelve grandchildren. That was pretty good for those days. You think I don't know how you look in on her descendants? I do too." 

"Why on earth do you do that?" Methos wanted to know. 

"Maybe I figure I owe it to the Clan Delbaeth." Marcus hitched his shoulders higher. "I never hated any of them." 

Alex balled her hands into fists. "And yet you wiped it out. Helping to destroy your precious Rome was the proudest moment of my life. I finally had my vengeance for my slaughtered kin." 

Once more, Cassius stepped forward. "Yet here you both are, centuries later, still trying to kill each other. Don't you see how weary you both are? You suffer from battle fatigue! At least you, Alex, try to find love -- but Papa, you deny yourself even that. Alex has found love over the centuries, and it has comforted her. You have impoverished your soul and your heart; you have been with thousands of women, but for centuries none of them have meant anything to you. Julie, in New York, she and her daughter Chloe adored you; their hearts were broken when you left. So was yours, I could tell, but still you left, as you always do. You give yourself only to war. Thank God I have Ceirdwyn, but you have no one!" 

In over 2,000 years, Cassius had never talked to Marcus like that. His insight stunned everyone -- except Marcus. Oddly, he seemed to quietly accept it quietly, with no more than a shrug. 

"Men like me are better off alone," he said. "I had to watch your poor mother age and die. That was painful enough. I never loved any woman as much as I loved her, even the two wives I took afterward. When I lost Silesia to Heinrich's whore, I swore I would never marry again. Even then, a woman who stayed with me too long put her life in danger. Look what happened when that witch Felicia Martins found out about poor Gretchen! I had already broken it off with her, but she'd taken up with another Immortal and that French shrike still killed her. At least I finally paid her back when she tried to hurt you." 

Marcus turned to Alex. "You always talk of your pain, your vengeance. You're lucky I never went after you for what happened to Silesia." 

"That wasn't my doing, Marcus!" She shook her head indignantly. You know Ulrike and Heinrich did that." 

Methos crossed his arms. "What started all this trouble between you and Heinrich anyway Marcus? All I know is it goes back to 9 AD." 

Marcus nodded acquiescence. "He was one of the flunkies of King Herman who led us into that trap in the Teutoburg Forest. He was just a pre-Immortal then, but I sensed that he was a weasel too. I knew he couldn't be trusted, but the General Varus didn't want to heed the warnings of a mere centurion. As a result, we were wiped out almost to the last man." 

"Did you get to fight him at all?" 

"Yes, and I killed him for the first time. I was going to take his head when I saw Cassius was surrounded by seven Goths, two of them with war axes. I was afraid they'd take his head, so I left the little snake and went to help my son. It was all we could do to escape and take a few innocent camp followers with us." 

"He hates you so much for that?" Ceirdwyn marveled. "Hell, you made him Immortal. He should be grateful." 

Cassius shrugged, but didn't look away. 

Marcus shook his head, missing or ignoring the by-play. "A few years later Rome won some measure of revenge, but our victory wasn't nearly so total and Herman got away. I was sent to meet secretly with some German kings as an emissary of Caesar. I told them the price for concessions was Herman's life, and they were glad to pay it. Heinrich was Herman's loyal vassal; he tried to save Herman but I chased him off and got that treacherous Kraut. Heinrich was too afraid to fight me then, and he's never forgotten how I shamed him. 

"When Rome finally fell over 400 years later, I'd married Silesia, a Goth Immortal warrior-woman. She had been my student, my second and my last. I loved her, though not as much as I had loved Emilia, I admit. I thought it would be better to take up with one of our own, someone who wouldn't age and die while I stayed 29 forever. We even adopted a little mortal girl. 

Then the Visigoths came. Heinrich had married Ulrike, a tall and beautiful Vandal Immortal woman. She and Heinrich intercepted Silesia and the child while they were trying to escape Rome. Ulrike dueled with Silesia, and lost. Then Heinrich put a sword to the girl's throat. He gave Silesia a choice - the child's life or hers. She...let Ulrike take her head. Later, the poor child told me everything." 

"Where were you when all this happened?" Methos asked. 

"I had been...delayed. I got there in time for the Quickening. That pig was going to kill the girl anyway, so I threw my dagger and wounded him in the chest, letting her get away. My rage was so great that I killed that Teutonic whore with one swipe of my blade. While I was taking her Quickening, two of his mortal henchmen grabbed him and took him away. He always has a couple around to save his butt." 

Methos nodded thoughtfully. "That explains much, but why were you delayed? What kept you from her?" 

"She did!" Marcus pointed sharply at Alex, his face a mask of pain and fury. She sent one of her lovers after me-the Visigoth Prince Valric. He was an Immortal said to be a thousand years old then. He was a fierce fighter, so she became his lover and told him all about me. I was on my way to my family when they found me. He started spouting nonsense about how I was finally going to 'pay for my crimes.' Then he charged me, while she stood there smiling, figuring she'd finally found someone who could do what she couldn't - but it didn't work out that way, did it woman?" 

Alex bit her lip and then hung her head. "Yes, it's all true. It was the only time I ever put a lover up to that - and yes, he was over a thousand years old, and very skilled. If he couldn't take you, I knew nobody else could - except me. I've never sent anyone I loved after you since, and I've never forgiven myself for losing Valric." 

"He was good all right," Marcus went on. He was one of the toughest opponents I've ever fought - but I finally took his head. As the Quickening engulfed me, she screamed like a banshee and charged at me with her sword. The force of the Quickening drove her back and knocked her down, but she kept trying. Finally I recovered enough to meet her blade and beat her to her knees. I told her what she was, and that she had killed Valric as much as I had." 

"I really did love him," Alex whispered, digging her nails into her palms. 

"All she did was clutch her sides and weep. I should have beheaded her, but I thought then it would be too easy. I wanted what she had done to haunt her, as I was haunted. So I satisfied myself with just running her through and leaving her slumped over the headless body of that poor fool. 

"That's why I was too late to save Silesia. Cassius was leading innocent people out of the city, so he couldn't be there either. Later we were reunited. We gave my adoptive daughter to a good family and went to Byzantium together. That time, my son consoled me. After that, I never married again." 

"I knew nothing about Silesia," Alex muttered. "I had no idea..." 

Ceirdwyn looked at Cassius. "So that was why you refused to go away with me; you thought your father needed you." She turned to Marcus. "We didn't know, not then. When Cassius told me about it, I told Alex and we left Heinrich's service. Even then, Darius had warned us about him. We were too blinded by lust for revenge to see what he really was, not until we learned about what he did to Silesia. We never allied ourselves with him or any of his allies again. We had both spurned his advances so the miserable turd hated us anyway." 

"It's true," said Alex, looking up at Marcus. Yes, I've lived with the shame and guilt for Silesia and Valric for centuries. But I would never have done it if you hadn't destroyed my family all those centuries earlier. I never sent anyone after you again." 

"Then why did they keep coming? There were at least six more after him. How did all those love-struck fools know to come after me?" 

"I don't know! I told them about Cumbria, but not about you - not by name or description." 

Cassius stepped forward and grabbed his father's shoulders. "Papa, I'm still not really smart, but I think I know. Can't you guess?" 

Marcus looked into his son's eyes and saw the answer. "Yes, by God! It was Heinrich! All these centuries, it's been Heinrich!" 

Ceirdwyn and Alex looked at each other, jaws dropping. It all made sense. 

Methos glanced around at all of them. "I have suspected for a long time that there was someone goading you two on, not letting the memories fade, adding fuel to the fire, but I didn't really have it all tied together until now. You two are so battle weary, so emotionally fatigued by combat, you couldn't see it yourselves." 

"We were played," Marcus whispered. "He's been egging us on behind the scenes to keep us off his back, hoping that someday one of us would kill the other. We've been used!" 

"As you have told me, Papa," Cassius went on, "His goal has always been for Germany to rule the world. He served all three Reichs, especially Hitler's. You and Alex have often opposed that - especially you. You yourself told me he had been financing the Palestinians and the Wahhabis for decades, and we can all guess why. Now he seeks to make Germany the leader of the European Union, under his secret control. My financial people confirmed that before I joined you here." 

"But the origins were not his doing, Marcus," Alex snapped. "They were yours, may your soul be damned to hell!" 

Marcus' eyes flashed with a fury even Cassius had never seen before. "It already is damned to hell, you Celtic bitch! It was damned before I ever laid eyes on you, before you were ever born! ...But it was worth it, because I saved my son. May his Christian God forgive me, I had to beat him for the first and only time - and crucify his savior to do it - but I saved my son, as a father must, no matter what it costs him." 

All the others stared at him in shock. There had been many legends about Cassius and Marcus among Immortals for over 2,000 years. It seemed that no two agreed. But for the first time, Marcus had confirmed one of them. 

Ceirdwyn found it hard to speak. "You-you mean it's true what the legends say? You two were present at the Crucifixion?" 

"Yes!" Marcus shouted, looking skyward. "I was the centurion in the New Testament. I'd taken up with one of my Jewish servant women, a beautiful widow with a young son - Isaac, his name was. The boy became like a second son to me, and a kid brother to Cassius. One day, he became really sick. I paid for physicians and medicines, but nothing helped." 

"The next part was my doing," Cassius spoke up. "We had often watched over the sermons of various prophets, to keep an eye on them and maintain order. Then a carpenter from Nazareth came to Jerusalem, and he was different. I listened to him, and... I began to believe. When Isaac became so ill, I suggested Marcus go to him. I could not see that there was anything to lose." 

"Well, there was a little something," Marcus noted. "I considered him a harmless idealist, a man with sincere sentiments that I couldn't see ever becoming reality. But Isaac's mother begged me to listen to Cassius, so I went to the prophet and asked for his help. He offered to come to my house, but I told him it wouldn't be necessary; his word would be enough. It's written that I had great faith, but the truth is, I didn't want my superiors to find out I had a Jewish holy man in my house. I could see in his eyes that he knew that, but he told me to go home - my servant was cured. When Cassius and I got home, he was. He had recovered the same time I'd been talking to the Nazarene." 

"I remember that story," Ceirdwyn murmured. "The centurion said something along the lines of: 'I'm in the army, I know how these things work; if I give an order here, it'll be done over there.' That always struck me as a perfectly Roman attitude." 

Methos rubbed his chin, reflecting on what he'd just heard. "Fascinating! What happened then?" 

Ceirdwyn looked at Cassius, who closed his eyes. 

"I crucified him!" Marcus cried. "Pilate ordered me to do it, just to keep that paranoid Herod and his squabbling priests happy - and I followed my orders, as I did for centuries before and after." 

" _You_ were that centurion," Alex breathed. "'Just following orders.' Oh my gods..." 

Ceirdwyn was still staring at her lover of 2,000 years. "But what does that have to do with you beating Cassius? I never knew about that." 

"We arrived as he was being scourged," Marcus ground on. That's far worse than merely being whipped; scourges had blades and nails attached to them, and the two slime balls who wielded them loved their work. They'd even shoved a crown of thorns on his head, as far as it would go. Cassius couldn't bear it. Before I could stop him he threw himself on them and punched them out. The other legionnaires didn't like their fun being interrupted, but I took charge and ordered everyone to stop. I said that the prophet had suffered enough. How little I knew! Then we got our orders to crucify him." 

"What...happened?" Alex asked, fascinated in spite of herself. 

"Read the New Testament," Marcus replied. "Or see that movie by Gibson. It's actually pretty accurate for a Hollywood film." 

Alex quivered in shock. "You mean Cassius was the one..." 

"No, he wasn't. He would never have done that, and I wouldn't order him to do it. The soldier who speared him was a Tuscan named Casca Rufio Longinus, but it was on my orders - and it was intended as a mercy-stroke. The poor man had been hanging there for three hours, and a quick stab in the heart cut his suffering short. Naming the man Cassius in the film was a coincidence, but there's one thing they've all gotten wrong and Gibson left out entirely. Someone did get on his knees and said, 'Truly this was an innocent man,' but it wasn't me or any other centurion. It was Cassius. I knew it was true but I didn't say it. He had the courage I didn't, and it almost cost him his head." 

Ceirdwyn went to Cassius and leaned on him, her head leaning on his shoulder. "Alex, how could you even think my Cassius might do such a horrible thing?" 

"Duty-worship," Alex growled. "We've all seen that before. It's what damned Germany. Marcus and Cassius once told me they spared him as a babe. But then Marcus killed him a little more than 30 years later. Why shouldn't he drag poor Cassius down with him?" 

Ceirdwyn eyed Alex coldly. "Cassius is not Marcus and you know it." 

Cassius could stay silent no longer. "Papa, it wasn't your fault. He understood, and forgave. You heard him, we all did." 

Marcus shook his head. "That was for you. You at least offered him wine to ease his pain," Marcus replied. "It was Prosca, so harsh many thought it was vinegar, but it was something. I betrayed his kindness, and he cursed me." 

He faced the others, seeing all but Cassius transfixed by the power of his story. "Before he died, he said something to me no one else understood, because he spoke in IIynni - a language long dead even then. He said: 'War will bring you no satisfaction. You will fight with all your might, but you will live to see the thing you love most destroyed. You will know no peace until you understand." 

Ceirdwyn was suddenly chilled. "I don't understand either," she said, afraid she understood all too well. 

"He meant Cassius!" Marcus spit out the words. "He had to. Why do you think I've fought for all these centuries? I've fought for order in the world, to protect him - to keep him safe from mortals and immortals. To save him from a curse meant to punish me!" 

Cassius started to open his mouth, but Methos beat him to it. "But why did you beat him?" Methos persisted. 

"An officer complained about what Cassius had done. He said it was insubordination, punishable by death. Because Cassius was a Roman citizen, the sentence would have been carried out by beheading. I went to Pilate and begged him to spare Cassius. Pilate agreed, probably because he felt uncomfortable about the whole mess. He knew that Jeshua-Bar-Josef hadn't broken any Roman law, and Jewish law at the time couldn't execute him, so Herod and friends pulled a legal trick to get Rome to do the killing for them. Pilate decreed that instead Cassius would have to be beaten forty strokes with a wooden club - by me. To save my son's life, I did it. To save his life, I beat him as hard as I could so his wounds would not heal too fast and the blood would cover them. After the twentieth blow, he started howling in pain, and still I kept beating him." Marcus looked away, unable to look at his son. 

Cassius broke the silence. "You saved my life that time, Papa, as you did many times before and since. I knew that, even then. But you are wrong about the curse. I do not believe that good man would use me to punish you. It was not a curse, but a prophecy; Rome was 'the thing you love most', and you did lose it. I am a man, not a thing. He did not curse you, Papa; you did it to yourself. Don't you see that?" 

"You've been saying that for 2,000 years, son, but I can't take that chance." 

Methos approached Marcus warily. "There's something here I don't understand. You've never seemed very religious or superstitious to me, so why do you believe his words, curse or prophecy? I can't say I really do, even now." 

Marcus laughed bitterly. "In the early morning of the third day, we were guarding Pilate and his wife while they slept. Pilate started screaming and calling for his guards. We rushed in, but nobody else was there. Pilate was screaming that he had seen the Prophet standing at the foot of his bed. He had tried to wake his wife, but when he turned back, the holy man was gone. I thought he had just had a nightmare, but then I saw blood on the floor, by the foot of the bed. Pilate ordered us to check his tomb, and when we got there, he was gone. Cassius said he rose. I just don't know." 

The others looked at Cassius, who nodded in confirmation. He turned to Ceirdwyn, stroked her hair and smiled, as if to allay her unspoken fears. Then he looked straight at Methos, and signaled him with his free hand to go on. 

Methos cleared his throat and resumed his role as judge. "I think we have gone back thirty years too far. I believe we should explore what happened in the years 61 and 62, Common Era, in ancient Britannia. 

"Yes, do that!" shouted Alex Raven, her eyes blazing with an old, old fury. "Let's learn of even more betrayal and treachery by Marcus Remus, Centurion Supernumerai and Primipilus of the First Legion of Caesar - Marcus Remus, 'The Death Machine of Rome!'" 

Marcus only sighed and shook his head. 

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX: THE BEGINNING**

"Where should we start?" Methos asked. 

Alex stepped forward and fixed a stare of iron hatred on Marcus. "I'll tell you where it started. It was in the kingdom of Cumbria on the western coast of Britannia, now Great Britain, in the summer of 61 AD. 

"I didn't take the name Alexandra Raven until the 18th Century. Back then, in 61 AD, I was Princess Ailia, eldest child of King Adgennus and Queen Fianna of the Clan Delbaeth, the Fire-Makers. They were the good and just rulers of Cumbria. Childless, they had taken me as their own when I was a foundling baby. 

"Soon after that, they were blessed by the birth of their heir, my brother Bran, and then my beloved sisters Betha and Cottia. Before they had found me, my mother had prayed for a child to the goddess Andraste. Believing I was a gift of good fortune after she became pregnant with Bran, she dedicated me to her, and convinced my father to train me in the ways of warfare and hunting. 

"My dearest friend since childhood was Ceirdwyn, a princess of the Iceni, a neighboring tribe. It was she who introduced me to my betrothed, Prince Deglain of the Picts. I was in my twenties then - an old maid by the standards of the times - but he wanted me and loved me. He was the kindest lover I ever had. My first true love..." Alex's gaze grew soft and distant. "We would talk for days of our lives and the family we'd have together. Despite living under the Roman yoke, life was good. I looked forward to visiting to his kingdom in the Highlands, where the people were truly free." 

"You're a beautiful woman Alex," Methos noted. "I'm curious to know why you hadn't married earlier." 

"I was given to Andraste," she replied. "I could only wed a man who defeated me in fair combat. Deglain was the first. He challenged me for the right to court me, and won. I fought him as hard as I could, but I was no match for him then." 

"I remember," said Ceirdwyn. "We were both given to Andraste. I never saw anyone so happy to be defeated as you." She turned to Cassius and smiled. "You were the first man to defeat me in fair combat too, darling." Cassius smiled back. 

Marcus shook his head. "I think I'm going to be sick to my stomach." The others all stared at him in resignation, even Cassius. "Okay, so you were all happy, happy, happy. We get it. But you were living in a fool's paradise. You know now you could never have given him children. Move on." 

Alex visibly composed herself, and continued. "Oh it wasn't all sunshine and roses, not with the Romans in charge. I knew that, even then. That was another reason I was attracted to Deglain; your 'invincible' empire never conquered Scotland. You had to build Hadrian's Wall later to keep its people away from you." 

"We decided it wasn't worth the taking," Marcus shrugged. No Scot, mortal or immortal, ever beat me, not even both MacLeods." 

"I wasn't aware that you had crossed swords with either of them," Methos murmured. 

Alex turned on Marcus in a fury. "You should have stayed out of all of Britain. You weren't wanted!" 

"Big deal! We weren't wanted anywhere. Neither were the British when they conquered their empire. I recall a lot of Scotsmen - and Irish - in the British Army too." 

"As if they had a choice! _Siul aroon!_ " Alex lunged for him, blood in her eye. 

Methos held out his arms to keep them apart. "Enough! I was there then, with the Romans - just as an administrator, thank you - and I remember the political climate. We need to cut to the chase. I wasn't around for Boudicca's Rebellion." 

"Why not?" Ceirdwyn asked. 

Cassius chuckled. "He saw me, realized Marcus was nearby, and ran like hell." 

Methos gave Cassius an annoyed look. "Let's just say I found a better position in Iberia where the climate was more agreeable." 

Marcus scratched the back of his neck. "How you managed to get roped into combat in World War II with the British Army is beyond me. You're usually so good at avoiding it." 

"The draft caught up with me," Methos shrugged. "And I wasn't involved all that much - certainly not as much as you. This brings us back to our inquest. How did you two first cross paths? There's no record of that." 

"It was in 61 AD, shortly before the rebellion" Alex volunteered, a little calmer. "My sisters, Betha and Cottia, had gone out to pick flowers. Cottia was only eight years old, a sweet and darling child with a smile that could brighten any day, always laughing and happy. Betha was seventeen, a quiet sensitive girl. I had tried to train her as a warrior, and made her carry a sword, but her heart was never in it." Alex paused, her eyes going distant again. "Her heart was warm and gentle. She liked to entertain younger children by telling stories and playing the harp...How she loved music. Her singing voice was as beautiful as she was, and she was very, very beautiful." 

Marcus nodded despite himself. "Yes, she was that." 

Alex's voice grew cold as she flicked a glance at Marcus. "She admired Roman culture and tried to make friends with Roman girls. She wanted peace between our peoples, she was the peacemaker..." Tears rolled down Alex's face. "Oh Betha, you were so innocent!" 

Ceirdwyn embraced Alex and turned a look to Methos. "Give her a moment, please." 

After a minute, Alex gently pulled away from Ceirdwyn. "I'm all right. To get back to the story, my sisters had been gone a long time, and I began to worry, so I went to look for them. I thought that they had just lost track of the time, so I went alone. I had not gone far when I heard shouting from a small glen. Then I heard a scream, and I recognized it as Betha's. 

"I was rushing to the glen when a slovenly brute came staggering out of the woods. He was bruised and battered, but he still attacked me. He was a bandit, not a warrior, and I ran him through in short order. Then two more men like him raced out of the glen, but they gave me a wide berth. Finally I got through the trees and bushes and burst into the clearing. There I saw a huge Roman decurion, holding a sobbing Cottia in his arms. He was Cassius. Then I saw Betha on the ground, and a centurion who was as big as the first Roman with his sword drawn, standing over her and holding her arm." 

"Cassius, what happened?" Ceirdwyn asked. "What did he make you do?" 

Marcus threw up his hands in exasperation. "I didn't make him do anything! We heard a young girl screaming, and when we got to the clearing we saw a girl in her teens trying very hard, but failing, to protect herself and a little girl from half a dozen bandits. You left out the three that were dead on the ground when you got there, Princess. We made short work of them and the survivors ran. Cassius was trying to comfort the little girl and I was trying to help the older girl up. Then you came charging at us, screaming in that barbaric Brythonic-Gaelic and swinging your sword like a nut-case." 

"I thought you were attacking my sisters!" 

"So what happened then?" Methos prodded. 

"I'll tell you what happened!" Marcus sneered. "She charged at me so I knocked her sword out of her hand and flipped her on her butt. I might have taken her head then, but Betha started shouting, 'No, please! She's my sister!' You should have seen the look on her face when Betha told her we'd rescued them." 

Alex ignored Marcus' gloating and went on. "I admit I was embarrassed after Betha told me what had happened. But much as I hated owing Romans a debt of gratitude, Celtic tradition demanded I show it to them. So, with some prodding from Betha, I invited them to our palace. To my dismay, they accepted." 

"Celtic royalty didn't live in palaces," Methos puzzled. "They had daub-and-wattle huts, like everyone else in early Britain." 

"Rome built a few modest ones," Marcus set him straight," for rulers it wanted to impress. King Adgennus was one of them. That was before you came over, Needle-Nose." 

"Betha had sprained her ankle in the fight so she couldn't walk," Alex went on. "She refused to let me help, but was perfectly willing to let her 'dashing centurion rescuer' carry her home in his arms. I loved Betha, but the poor child was just too romantic and vulnerable." 

"She was very young Ailia," Ceirdwyn smiled, caught up in the memory. "It was just a teenage crush." 

Cassius stiffened but said nothing. His discomfort was obvious as he exchanged glances with Methos. Marcus noticed, but again pretended not to. 

"You shouldn't be so hard on her ability as a warrior" Marcus surprised them. "In fact, she fought very bravely and well to protect her little sister. She was too frail to hold off so many, but she really tried." 

Ignoring Marcus, Alex went on. "That night, our father held a feast in their honor. Cassius kept the children entertained, and I soon realized what a gentle soul he was - a broken but beautiful man." 

Marcus flinched in surprise, but hid it well. 

"But Marcus Remus could not resist striding around the hall, practically daring the men to challenge him. The word 'machismo' hadn't been invented yet, but it fitted him perfectly. Betha was beside him almost constantly, hanging on his every word. She even dressed in a Roman gown she had purchased from a passing Roman merchant. Betha, the peace-maker..." 

Marcus smiled and nodded slowly. "She was pretty, but much too young - even if I really had been 29 years old. She was so lovely and sweet, it was hard not to be charmed by her." He turned to Ceirdwyn. "I'm surprised you weren't there. You might have stolen Cassius from little Cottia. She and her playmates adored him." 

"My father understood King Adgennus' obligations," Ceirdwyn replied, "but he would never let any of his family go to a party with Roman guests." 

Alex was stone-faced. "Cottia and her playmates feared you Marcus Remus. They were mere babies, but even they knew better than poor Betha. I knew she was grateful, but I couldn't understand why she kept looking at you so adoringly. You were polite and respectful to her; I grant you that, but you were every inch a Roman - hard and arrogant." 

"I think she saw something good in you, Papa," Cassius spoke up. "A side you try to hide from the world, but always showed Mama and me." 

"I thought she was just showing her gratitude." Marcus hitched his shoulders uncomfortably. I...I did everything to show proper respect for her family and her father's hospitality. After all, our tribune, Marcus Constantine, was there also. I gave everyone respect, Alex - even your fiancé, the Pictish idiot. 

"Prince Deglain of the Highlands," Alex corrected icily. 

Marcus took a deep breath. "Okay, sure. He kept trying to provoke me, and you know it. I saw you watching and giggling. Finally your sister told your father and he made the punk stop. It's interesting who the arrogant one was then." 

"He wasn't about to bow and scrape to a Roman - and he had reason - but I finally took him aside and told him to heed my father. It was after you and Betha went outside to 'look at the beautiful night sky,' or so she said." 

"That wasn't my idea," Marcus retorted hastily. "I didn't do anything to violate her honor - and you know it - I sensed you watching us. You know, Cassius and I knew you were a pre-Immortal the moment we laid eyes on you." 

"Yes, I know," Alex growled. And I heard everything. Poor Betha, she tried so desperately to win the heart of her rescuer. You turned her down and she was crestfallen. I stayed up with her for hours after the feast ended, consoling her and drying her tears." 

"I wasn't cruel to her." Marcus' annoyance was obvious. "I told her the truth. I was too old for her and beneath her station. Sure I was a centurion supernumerai and primipilus of my legion, but that was like a chief warrant officer in the American Army today - strictly non-com. Guys like me didn't marry princesses. I didn't want to hurt her and I tried to be as kind as possible." 

"So I thought -- at first', Alex sneered. I was actually moved and surprised -- at first. I began to think that maybe my father was right - that maybe you weren't all bad and Romans and Celts could live in peace. I actually started to like you." 

Marcus blinked in surprise. "I ...found myself liking your family too. Your father said we could come back whenever we wished. Your brother even asked me to give him sword-lessons. Your Prince Deglain didn't like that." 

"He was right!" Alex closed her eyes, remembering, and spoke through gritted teeth. "You knew I was there, so you hid your true nature. You were spying on us, getting ready to betray us as you inevitably did - as Rome always did. And when you did, you - Marcus Remus - personally killed all the men I loved, and drove my mother and sister Betha to their deaths. You betrayed the hospitality of the King of Cumbria, a chief of the Demetae; a man who had wanted to live in peace!" 

"Like it was all my idea?" Marcus' voice was cold, even for him. "Like I knew war was coming? I didn't start the war, I just fought in it. That was the work of your friends, the Iceni." He tilted his head towards Ceirdwyn. 

Alex snapped her eyes open. They were blazing. "Because your damned Rome robbed and betrayed and assaulted their rightful ruler -- Queen Boudicca! Do I need to repeat what you Romans did to her, and her daughters?" 

"No, but you will anyway," Marcus sighed, looking at the ground. 

"Yes, I'll spell it out in detail." Alex wasn't about to stop. "When her husband, King Prasutagus, died, he left her only half of their kingdom, half his lands; he left the rest to Rome, possibly in hopes of appeasing Roman greed. He was even more accommodating than my father, for what little good it did. But you Romans had to have it all p the whole kingdom, all the land, leaving nothing to the rightful heirs. Boudicca had no male relatives; she was a helpless widow, just in her late thirties, with two teenage daughters even younger than Betha. 

"Her, helpless?" Marcus looked incredulous. "She was almost six feet tall and could handle a sword better than any mortal woman I ever knew - most mortal men too." 

"And that was exactly all she had, so she used it!" Alex's voice grew louder and angrier. "Your governor, Suetonius, had her seized, striped, and flogged in public when she protested the theft of her land. Then they made her watch while your vicious legionnaires gang-raped her daughters! After that, they gang-raped her! Did you expect the Iceni to put up with that?" 

"You're blaming the wrong man..." Marcus dug his heels in the sand. "That was the work of Procurator Catus Decianus Servus. Almost everything in Britannia was, back then." 

"That's supposed to make a difference?" 

"Besides, Rome was a male-dominated society; most civilizations were back then. They didn't respect lands ruled by women, as Cleopatra and Xenobia found out. You Celts were an anomaly, way ahead of your time." 

"...Or very far behind it," Methos murmured, unheard. 

"Something many of you Mediterranean types still haven't learned," Alex sneered. 

Marcus ignored her. "Decianus was the J. Edgar Hoover of his day. He had something on everybody who was anybody in the Roman Empire, including the emperor. He could blackmail, extort, or manipulate anybody into doing whatever he wanted. He convinced Rome that Boudicca was unstable and untrustworthy because she'd never agreed with her husband's cooperation with Rome." 

"Hardly surprising," Alex snapped. "She hadn't wanted to give up half the kingdom in the first place." 

"Which didn't help her case much, but it gets funnier. I know you all thought Rome had poisoned Prasutagus, but Rome thought she had done it. The fact is Decianus planted both rumors to stir up things. The rest was easy." 

Ceirdwyn cut in. "How do you know all that, Marcus?" 

Marcus turned a wry smile toward Methos. "Some administrator, who'd departed in haste for a new job left behind some very interesting scrolls -- where Marcus Constantine just happened to find them. As Constantine's chief centurion and fellow Immortal, I got to share the information." 

Methos fidgeted for a minute, and then shrugged. 

"Then why didn't you expose Decianus?" Alex angrily demanded. 

"To whom?" Marcus shook his head. "He had everyone in Britain, and almost everyone in Rome who could have done anything, in the palm of his hand. Nero was the emperor then and he couldn't have cared less. The knowledge was something we could only use under the most desperate circumstances." 

"War with the Britons wasn't desperate enough?" 

"Look: no Immortal could stand the heat of all the investigations that would have followed, even if we had found an honest official to report to. We had the information but we couldn't use it." 

"So you let that monstrous injustice be done to Boudicca and her daughters?" 

"We were not part of that," Cassius protested. 

"That's true," Marcus continued. "Constantine, Cassius and I were in Wales, putting down a minor uprising when that happened." 

"Another uprising?" Alex rolled her eyes. "You Romans inspired a lot of them." 

"Sure, and a lot of those greedy little British kings liked to attack their neighbors, who would then yell to us for help," Marcus sneered. "So we dealt with that, and came back. That's when Constantine found the scrolls, we were all disgusted. We found the men who'd hurt the girls, heard them bragging about it. And by the way, one of them was a Gaul and two were Britons. We had a lot of them in the legions back then." 

"They were traitors and scum, corrupted by Roman gold," Alex hissed. "Bandits like those who attacked Betha and Cottia, who'd found a better racket." 

"They saw steady pay, good food, and the world's first military retirement plan. They saw cleaning living quarters and decent lives for their families. Some of them were damn good soldiers...." Marcus caught himself, and went back to the main argument. "But you're right about one thing: Roman or Celt, the rapists were scum. I always drew the line at rape, and so did Cassius. That's why we beat the hell out of all of the bastards, Romans and Celts alike. I even found the rat bastard centurion who'd done the whipping, when I heard he was bragging about it, and punched his lights out." 

"Beat him so badly that he subsequently died, or so I heard," Methos murmured from the sidelines. 

"It's true," Ceirdwyn sighed. "Cassius told me the same thing long ago, Alex. I tried to tell you many times, but you dismissed it because of Cassius'...condition." 

"Yes, it is the truth," Cassius said, putting his hand compassionately on Alex's shoulder. "As the primipilus of the legion, Marcus could always find an excuse to beat on a lesser soldier. He never abused that power; he only used it on men who deserved it, like rapists of children. That was a very serious crime under Roman law, you know; in Rome, child molesters were publicly beaten to death -slowly. Constantine and Papa were as disgusted by what had happened as I was." 

Alex was surprised, but still not convinced. She slowly took Cassius' hand off her shoulder. "But you still served Rome, Centurion. You still helped put down Boudicca." 

"What did you expect me to do?" Marcus asked. "Join the rebels?" 

"You could have resigned, for one thing" she hissed. 

"What would that have accomplished?" Marcus paced in a circle like a caged lion. "The centurion who would have replaced me was one of the scum who'd raped the girls and Boudicca. At least I tried to be fair when I could, and protect the innocent. Besides, I needed the security for Cassius -- and no, I'm not using that as an excuse! I was a Roman citizen and a soldier, and I performed the duties of a soldier - even when Rome made mistakes. I whipped criminals, cowards, and deserters, but I never whipped any woman, and I wasn't a rapist." 

Methos opened his mouth to speak, but Marcus cut him off. "I was never a rampaging bandit either. I'm not the one Cassandra hates." 

Methos nodded in resignation. "I was going to say that as far as I know, that's all very true. From what I heard, Darius never gave up hope for you." 

Marcus laughed and waved his arm dismissively. "Like I needed or wanted his benediction, the arrogant Holy-Roller." He looked at Cassius, who was obviously uncomfortable with his comments. 

"I'm sorry, son." Marcus' apology was sincere. "I know you liked him and he did do you a great kindness that I couldn't. I know how much your faith means to you... I guess I thought he was trying to alienate you from me, and I couldn't take that. You were my son, all I had that meant anything to me." 

"Is that why you've always resented me?" Ceirdwyn asked, genuinely curious. 

Marcus bowed his head and stared at the ground. "I never liked the idea of my son taking up with a former enemy, someone who helped destroy our nation. But I wanted him to know love, and he found it with you. I'm reconciled to you being his chosen woman, much as your marriages bother me. But I felt Darius was trying to replace me as his father, and I...couldn't handle that." 

Cassius approached his father and looked at him sadly. "...And that is the real reason you beat him up, isn't it? Papa, he was trying to save us both as he saw it. He did not believe our kind should take part in mortal wars. Even I could not totally agree and told him so. You are my only father, and always will be. That will never change." 

Marcus raised his head and looked at Cassius, his eyes sad and weary. "Won't it, Cassius? Doesn't every son have to eventually leave his father's house?" Before Cassius could reply, Marcus took two steps forward and shouted, "On with the Inquisito!" 

"With pleasure." Alex took a deep breath, and then spoke in a cold, even tone. "Unable to bear her humiliation, the theft of her lands, and the violation of her daughters - who were friends of Ceirdwyn and my sister Betha - Boudicca raised a rebellion. Thousands of Celts - Icenis, Trinovantes and others, joined her cause." 

Marcus snorted caustically. "That's because she slaughtered anyone who didn't." 

"She killed collaborators, lackeys of Rome!" Alex shouted. 

Marcus' reply was just as loud and angry. "And their innocent women and children, and anyone else who wouldn't join her! She wasted time and manpower attacking people who were no threat to her." 

"Hardly! My father stayed neutral and she spared Cumbria. It was you Romans who destroyed it!" 

"That's because it wasn't in her path! She would have gotten to it eventually. Your father himself told Marcus Constantine he couldn't stomach her viciousness any more than he could stomach the tyranny of Rome. Besides, he knew her lack of strategy and tactical skill would eventually destroy her. If you thought so much of her, why didn't you and your brother fight beside her? Your fiancé did, the poor fool." 

"Insult him one more time and I'll kill you!" she screamed. 

"Like that scares me?" Marcus sneered. "He knew she was losing it, but he stayed with her and her rabble." 

Alex grew more incensed. "Losing it? Losing it? She was winning victory after victory, annihilating whole legions! She defeated some of your best Roman generals!" 

Marcus snorted in frustration. "I was talking about her mind. Oh yes, she was great in an open field with direct charges, but even Deglain knew she'd eventually get into tougher terrain and she wouldn't know what to do. Prisoners we questioned told us later how he spent hours trying to convince her to wait for reinforcements, to regroup and plan. But she wouldn't listen. She was flushed with victory and wouldn't listen to anybody. He had to know what would happen. He should have packed up and gone home, but he didn't." 

"He was devoted to the freedom of the Celts! My father and his army should have gone with him. Bran and I begged him to reconsider, but he wouldn't. He believed the promises of Rome, probably more lies from Decianus." 

"So, as I asked before, why didn't you go yourselves?" Marcus was as filled with fury as Alex now, and everyone else was growing nervous. 

"We tried! We tried, but our father threw us in the dungeons until we gave our word to stay home. He was angry at me because I wouldn't try to talk Deglain out of joining Boudicca. When he left with his men, I cheered him on." 

"You cheered him on to his death!" Marcus snapped. Then he felt a powerful hand on his shoulder. He turned, and faced Cassius, whose face was full of sorrow. 

"Papa, this is still an Inquisito. I have more questions," he said. 

"Your own?" Marcus snapped, "Or those supplied to you by Methos and your Celtic woman?" 

Cassius was startled. Ceirdwyn and Methos exchanged worried glances. 

Marcus continued sullenly. "Do you think I'm fooled, son? Don't you think I saw through this, long ago?" He turned to Alex Raven and a grim smile crossed his face. "You think Heinrich played us? He's an amateur next to these three. They're using the Inquisito as some half-baked trick to get us to stop fighting each other." 

The frown on Alex's face told him she'd guessed that he was right. 

"Which one of you thought this up?" Marcus looked at Methos and shook his head. Then he stared at Ceirdwyn, and slowly nodded. "Of course. You've used his love before. He'd do anything for you, you Celtic bitch!" 

Cassius rushed to Ceirdwyn's side and grabbed her protectively. "No, Papa! This was my idea. I swear it on the grave of my mother!" 

Marcus was taken aback. Cassius never lied to him, especially not in an oath on Emilia's grave. Stunned as he was to admit it, he knew it was true. " _You_ thought this up?" he gasped. "Why?" 

"Because I wanted this to end." Cassius stood straight and tall as he explained. "You are my father and I would never let anyone hurt you - but Alex is my friend, and a sister to Ceirdwyn. No matter who killed who, one of us would grieve and seek vengeance or die. I wanted the Inquisito to make you see the truth - that you two must end this useless vendetta. The only winners will be Heinrich and his kind!" 

Marcus stepped back and looked carefully at Cassius. The change in his son had never been so evident. Marcus took a deep breath, stood straight and stiff, and held out his right hand, rigid with the palm down. "Very well, Decurion Cassius Polonius. Continue with your Inquisito; your centurion commands you! Let us finally bring this to its conclusion." 

Cassius let go of Ceirdwyn, gestured to reassure her, and stepped forward. He faced his father, stood at attention, and gave the ancient Roman salute. 

"Describe for the others, from our viewpoint, what happened at the Battle of Mona - to its ultimate conclusion." 

Marcus looked Alex straight in the eye, defiance in his voice. "It all came down to Gaius Suetonius Paullinus being a better general. Queen Boudicca and her huge but motley collection of 80,000 Iceni, Trinovantes, and assorted other Celtic rabble were outmaneuvered and outfought by 8,000 Romans aided by 2,000 Gauls and Britons who'd been turned into real soldiers. I had personally trained many of them myself over the years." 

"A little more detail if you will," Methos said, noting that both Ceirdwyn and Alex had stiffened at the obvious insult. 

"It will be my pleasure, Needle-Nose," Marcus chuckled. The Celts used the same old tactics they always used - a human wave of howling fanatics mixed willy-nilly with chariots carrying lancers and bowmen. A lot of their troops got in the way of their own chariots! Many of their fighters, men and women, were painted blue and a lot of them were stark naked. Let me tell you that was a particularly disgusting sight - especially the men. Behind them were their civilian women and children, howling their subhuman war-cries en masse, in an attempt to unnerve us." 

Alex sneered. "They had sent your running in defeat several times before." 

"But not at Mona" Marcus continued. "Suetonius suckered them brilliantly. He knew it was a sore spot for them - that they'd never back off and wait for the legions to move to more favorable ground - because of the execution of the Druids there the previous spring." 

This time it was Ceirdwyn who spoke up angrily. "They were massacred!" 

"They were practicing human sacrifice to your precious Andraste, or have you conveniently forgotten that?" Marcus was not yielding an inch on this one. "Rome had outlawed that and they knew it." 

"And what did you Romans do with prisoners of war?" Alex shot back. "You killed them - like Vercingetorix - or enslaved them, which is worse." 

"We didn't hack them up alive on an altar - and you Celts had slaves too!" 

Ceirdwyn said nothing, but turned silently to Cassius, who merely sighed and nodded. It was a part of her Iceni heritage, and her life, she was not proud of. "The custom began" she explained, "as the voluntary sacrifice of the Sacred King. When kings gained more power and lost a good bit of their faith, they made substitutes for themselves -- usually a prisoner taken in battle. In time, it became a cheap way to dispose of prisoners who couldn't be profitably sold as slaves. I suppose there's no institution on earth that can't be corrupted..." 

"Including all the empires he's fought for," Alex muttered. 

"And the causes you've served so loyally," Marcus retorted. 

"Please continue," Cassius said, trying to keep it on track. 

"Suetonius had positioned us in a gorge surrounded by thick forests on all sides," Marcus went on. They couldn't maneuver their chariots, and they crashed into each other. It was easy for our lancers and bowmen to pick them off. Then we infantry moved forward in solid formation. My super century of 120 men, all Romans, had the honor of leading that attack. My son and decurion, Cassius Polonius was by my side. 

"The Celts were brave, I give them that. I hated Boudicca for her wanton slaughter, but the woman could fight. Still, she and her warriors were no match for Roman discipline. We slaughtered them, left and right, and took few prisoners. Cassius and I must have each cut down dozens." 

"That you did," Ceirdwyn noted. "I saw you two, fighting side by side. You were both so much larger than the other Romans that I couldn't help noticing. But even then, I could see that Cassius was merely fighting for survival - protecting you and himself. You... seemed to revel in the blood of battle. My brother and sister and I were surrounded; we killed a lot of Romans before they were killed. Then some Roman coward stabbed me in the back. I woke up Immortal." 

Marcus shook his head. "So what did you expect him to do, fight fair and lose? It was a battle to the death and we were outnumbered eight to one." 

"Did you have to kill the civilian women and children too?" Ceirdwyn asked bitterly. 

Marcus glared at her indignantly. "Cassius and I didn't kill any of them. What the hell were they doing at a battle, anyway? Your great queen used them to try to unnerve us with those insane Celtic war-cries. The fool didn't know Suetonius had made us plug our ears until he gave the signal; then we removed them so we could hear our orders. We were mad, and many were just too hungry for blood. Many of those legionnaires had lost their own women and children to your hordes." 

"Deglain did nothing like that!" Alex shouted. 

"Maybe not," Marcus replied, "but others did. Your boyfriend was a man, I give him that. I avoided him for your father's sake, but I saw him fighting. He was a lion. He was wounded badly but he kept on fighting until the last three survivors of his band dragged him away." 

Alex sensed the genuine respect in Marcus' voice and nodded back. 

"Cassius and I finally fought our way to Boudicca's camp," Marcus continued. "We heard a wailing that we knew had to be her. We entered the tent and we saw her on her knees before the bodies of her two daughters. The goblets next to them told us what had happened." 

Ceirdwyn bowed her head. "She had sworn that no Roman would ever touch them -- or her -- again." 

Marcus nodded. "She kept that promise. When she saw us, I thought she was going to go for her sword. Instead, she just stood up and gestured to a table where a third goblet stood. She was silent, but she was pleading with us with her eyes." 

Ceirdwyn stood up as straight and tall as she could. "She knew the Romans would parade her in chains before the Roman crowds, and then either crucify her or make her fight other captives or wild animals in the arena until she was killed. She wasn't going to give you the satisfaction. She was a true queen of the Iceni." 

"Cara Mia," Cassius spoke patiently, "You know Marcus could have stopped her, could have taken her anytime he wanted. Instead, when she gestured towards the poison, he ordered me to stand down. We lowered our swords, and she thanked us. Then she drank the poison and walked back to the bodies of her daughters. She held them both in her arms and sang a song, a Celtic lullaby I remembered, until she died. We saluted her, and left. It was a tragic end." 

"It was a brave and noble death for all of them," Alex insisted. 

Cassius looked at her in puzzlement. "The younger girl looked to be 14, the other 17 at most. What is noble about children dying?" 

"She thinks it was brave and noble that they cheated Rome of its revenge," Marcus answered, "But the victory was enough for us, Princess. Cassius and I weren't interested in the gold we would have gotten for bringing her in alive. The poor woman had suffered enough." 

"I never knew that," Alex said, genuinely surprised. "Did you Ceirdwyn?" 

Ceirdwyn shook her head, looking equally amazed. 

"Marcus and I never said anything," Cassius spoke softly, "Because we knew Suetonius had wanted his revenge on Boudicca. He was not an evil bastard like Decianus, but he was not the best of men either. Decianus was the one who really felt cheated. We told Constantine, and he told us we had done the right thing. It was because of him that their bodies were not desecrated." 

Ceirdwyn went to her surrogate sister and stroked her arm gently. "I was killed for the first time in that battle, as I said. I revived filled with hate, certain that Andraste had resurrected me. I was determined to avenge our people on all Romans. But then I met Cassius." 

Her lover of 2,000 years smiled. "Actually, Cara Mia, you tried to kill me. I still remember the look on your face when I stabbed you through the heart." 

"I didn't know what I was then, but you did. You could have beheaded me - collected both my Quickening and the reward on my head, but instead you carried me off to safety in a cave. I thought terrible things of you then, but that was before I knew your goodness and your kind heart. You taught me about your God, a god that did not seek human sacrifice or glory in warfare. From you I learned there was good as well as bad in all peoples - even Romans." 

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN: BITTER TRUTH**

"Excuse me for interrupting the romantic mush." Marcus asked, annoyed, "But what's your point?" 

"Just this," said Ceirdwyn. "That for 2,000 years, despite everything, even his refusals and my marriages to mortals, Cassius and I have shared something that you and Alex have denied yourselves." She turned to Alex. "Forgive me, my sister, but you know that most of your loves have been warriors in the same causes; your causes have been your true love. You have never had much interest in peaceful men." 

"I did once," Alex said, holding back tears. "One of our own kind murdered him." 

"But you have to see now that Heinrich was behind that, not Marcus Remus. Marcus isn't responsible for all the misery in your life." 

Alex turned her head toward Marcus, her face again an icy mask. "He was the cause of my greatest loss, and others since. Just how did the Romans know my betrothed, Deglain, was hiding in our palace? That was the pretext Rome used to attack Cumbria, wasn't it?" 

Marcus sighed deeply. "Cassius and I saw him and his men enter the palace after the battle. It didn't take a genius to figure out he'd do that. Cassius wanted to keep quiet, but I felt obligated to report it to our tribune, Constantine. He was going to approach your father and try to figure out a way to smuggle the Picts back into Scotland, in exchange for a few easy concessions, but then Suetonius ordered our cohort to attack Cumbria. He'd been goaded into it by our "beloved" Procurator - Decianus Catus Servus, the little bastard. He had informers who either saw what we had, or else overheard us and ratted to him. 

Alex's voice was as cold as a tomb. "You couldn't have just kept quiet?" 

Marcus shook his head. "Half our army was looking for your Highland prince. Everyone knew he was your fiancé; they would have come to Cumbria eventually. Constantine had a right to know. Besides, how could I be sure no one else had seen Deglain? Our radar-sense only works on other Immortals, remember?" 

Tears started to flow down Alex's cheeks. "You had the entire world. Why did you have to have Cumbria?" 

"Because we could," Marcus replied, his voice tinged with resignation. "The British vilify Rome in their history books, but they were no better. It's the way of empires; I've told you over and over. If you spare one place, you have to spare them all. - so you spare none." 

"And that is exactly what is wrong with empires - which you eternally serve." 

Marcus shook his head. "Suetonius told Constantine had Decianus wanted to make an example of Cumbria. You always ask why, Alex. You know the answer. Why do you keep asking?" 

"Because it still doesn't make any sense to me. 'Making an example', 'teaching a lesson', 'sending a message' - I thought that kind of thinking would die with Rome, but it didn't. Two thousand years later, I'm still fighting it." 

Methos found his voice. "And Marcus still fights for order and what he thinks civilization is for. You've clashed often, but he's always spared you." He walked up to the Centurion and looked him in the eye. Marcus looked straight back. "Why, Remus? I've always thought it was just guilt, and that plays a part; but it's something else as well, isn't it?" 

Marcus shook his head angrily. "Do you think I'm proud of what happened at Cumbria?" He turned to Alex and marched towards her. She instinctively stepped back, then caught herself and stood her ground. 

Marcus cleared his throat. "Deep down, however misguided your idealism often was, I knew you were right - at least to some extent. I knew conquest for its own sake was a bad idea, and that eventually it would destroy Rome - hell, Augustus knew that nearly a century earlier! - But I served Rome because it was the best civilization around. Look at the chaos that followed its fall. The Germans started fighting each other, and so did everyone else. Civilization, unity, peace - it was all gone in a century, and on came the Dark Ages. 

"But I thought that maybe if Immortals like you and Cassius survived, maybe the world could change, not engulfed in chaos. So I spared you, in part because I knew you had reason to hate me and I had hurt you enough, but also because I hoped someday you'd give up your stupid vendetta and concentrate on changes that would really do some good. I wanted a world where there would be no purpose to the Game, a world where my son could live in peace. Cassius is a gentle soul, unlike me. In many ways, he's an idealist like you. I wanted a world for people like him." 

"Papa," Cassius protested, "I m proud to be your son. I always have been." 

To everyone's surprise, Alex's face seemed to soften slightly. "Can either of us, really change, Marcus Remus? Could you give up living as a soldier and warrior?" 

Marcus shook his head. "It's all I know." Then he looked at Cassius and smiled bleakly. "And soon it may be all I have. I had to protect my son, and now he may not need me anymore. I prayed, as much as I could really pray, for the day of his cure. But now, as it comes ever closer, I wonder what he will think of me. Cassius, do you think I've been wrong all these centuries? Is that why you helped set this up?" 

Cassius approached his father, his face filled with compassion. "I could never judge you harshly Papa. No one, mortal or Immortal, could have asked for a better father. But I want you and Alex to end this feud! I want you both to find peace." 

Marcus thought for a long moment, and slowly shook his head. "I don't know if that's possible," he admitted softly. 

"It can be done." Methos held up a cell phone. "I can prove it to you. Sorry, Cassius - and you too, Ceirdwyn - but I wasn't able to pull this off until a few days ago. There wasn't time to let you in on it." He punched a number on the cell phone. Someone answered immediately. "It's time," said Methos. "What? ...Oh, okay. Five minutes, then." He closed the phone and looked around at the assembled Immortals. "I call a five-minute recess. Someone's coming that you two need to talk to." 

Ceirdwyn and Cassius looked at each other, as puzzled as Alex and Marcus. Finally Cassius volunteered to get water for everyone while they waited for the mysterious witness. They didn't have to wait long. 

A battered old Ford pickup truck, covered with dust and mud, soon appeared in the distance. They all felt the sensation that told them another Immortal was coming. Within another minute the truck parked next to Methos' motorcycle. A tall, robust, young-looking man in blue jeans, cowboy boots, a denim shirt and a white Stetson hat got out. In his hand he held a huge egg. 

"You had me waiting so long over at that ostrich ranch', he said brightly, "That I got bored and checked out the store. I figured my wife and kids would get a kick out of an ostrich egg. Let me just put it somewhere safe." He set it on the truck's seat, and closed the door. 

Methos only shook his head in resignation. Ceirdwyn and Alex traded looks, having no idea who the man was. But as the visitor turned back to face them, Marcus and Cassius gasped in recognition. 

"You!" they shouted in unison. 

"Who the hell is he?" Alex asked Methos. 

"He's someone who's been the inspiration of many who consider themselves "freedom fighters," including you. Now, he's called William Spartan, but he was born Espartikos in ancient Thrace, over 2,000 years ago. He's best known as..." 

"Spartacus," Marcus grumbled. 

"...Spartacus?!" Alex took a clumsy step forward, stumbled, and literally fell to her knees. Ceirdwyn hastened to help her up. 

Cassius and Marcus nodded at each other and cornered Spartacus, trapping him between them. The former Thracian revolutionary gulped but stood firm. Alex, Ceirdwyn, and Methos shouted at them in protest to stop, but they moved closer. 

"See here!" shouted Methos. "I didn't bring him in here so you could kill him!" 

"Shut up your mouth, Needle-Nose" Cassius yelled back, startling Methos. 

"I don't have a sword," Spartacus protested. 

"Good," Marcus replied, and slapped him upside the head. "That's for spitting in my face after I stabbed you." 

"I was supposed to smile?" Spartacus asked. "It damn-well hurt. You ran me clear through, and I thought I was permanently dead." 

"Poor baby," Marcus replied. "Would you have preferred beheading?" 

Then Cassius smacked Spartacus the back of the head with the heel of his hand. The Thracian legend rubbed his head. "What did you do that for?" he groused. 

"You got me too, when you spit on him. You are lucky we didn't take your head instead of throwing your body in the ditch so nobody could find it until you revived." He looked at Marcus. "I didn't know he was involved in this, Papa - and neither did Ceirdwyn; I swear it. This guy is, how you say, an ingrate." 

"Yeah," said Marcus. "We spare your life and not even a thank-you card after 2,000 years." 

"I was supposed to know where you were? It's not like you guys sent me any Christmas cards." 

"Stop this!" Alex demanded. "This is the greatest hero of oppressed people in history and you treat him like a black sheep cousin!" 

"He's just another enemy of Rome to me," Marcus replied over his shoulder. "Besides, he hasn't been leading any revolts for over 2,000 years." We would have run into him sooner or later if he had. There was that nutty follower of his, Krassius, who was fighting for his own fun, but MacLeod whacked him." 

"We don't talk about him much," Spartacus confessed. "He was one of those moronic Teutons that wanted to keep fighting and march on Rome. The smart ones crossed the Brenner Pass like I wanted to do and went home. I only went with the fool Krauts because I figured I owed them. Talk about making bad choices in life! When I revived I took off, went back to Thrace, found a teacher, married, and got a farm. As long as we kept a low profile we were okay." 

"Yeah," Marcus said, smirking. "Those idiots you 'inspired' bugged us for a few years, but not much. They didn't have your 'charisma'." 

"Or brains," Spartacus shrugged. 

Alex was aghast. "You mean you gave up the cause of freedom to be nothing but a farmer?" she asked incredulously. 

Methos tapped Spartacus on the shoulder to get his attention. "This is Alex Raven and her friend Ceirdwyn, the Celtic princesses I was telling you about." 

Spartacus rubbed his chin. "Oh, of course. Look Miss, I'm sorry to disappoint you but as far as I was concerned I'd achieved my purpose. I got my people who wanted to be free back home, and Rome left them alone as long as they didn't make trouble. I'd had a bellyful of war by then, so I went back to farming." 

"But you just stood by and let tyrants rule?" Alex asked, incredulous 

Spartacus shrugged. "By then I realized that sooner or later Rome would fall with or without me. I'd had enough of killing. The damned Game was bad enough, and even that I avoided whenever possible. When I saw the Turks were coming, I left the Balkans and moved to the Alps. When they left, I went back. I thought things would be okay when Yugoslavia was formed in 1919, but then the Second World War came. I hid Jews, downed Allied fliers, escaped POWs, and partisans, and helped them escape, but I didn't do any real fighting. I _liked_ farming." 

"So...why are you here?" Alex asked, a little dazed and unaware Marcus, his hand over his mouth, was snickering at her. 

"After the war, I'd had enough of Europe so I moved to Northern Arizona in 1945 and got me a cattle ranch. Later I got a great mortal wife, and we adopted two kids. It suits me just fine. I can't see why you two just keep fighting." 

"There's so much oppression the world..." Alex muttered. 

"There's always some bunch of mooks starting wars," Marcus added. 

"They can't stop," Ceirdwyn said. "I think it's true; they both suffer from combat drift." 

Marcus clapped his hands over his ears in exasperation. "Again with the combat drift! Will you all knock it off with that?" 

Spartacus ignored him and spoke to Alex. "Miss Raven, I've heard of you over the centuries, and I'm honored that you consider me such an inspiration. But the world has changed a good bit in 2000 years. You can fight for freedom without guns or swords. I'm proof of that." 

Alex shook her head slowly. "You only fought for a few years - I've been fighting for centuries. What's more, there are still too many like him walking the earth." She pointed at Marcus Remus, her bitterness renewed, though somewhat subdued. 

"Oh sure, blame everything on me!" Marcus gave her a dismissive wave. "I fought tyrants too, Princess, whether you want to admit it or not." 

"Not for the same reasons!" Alex shouted. 

"Oh purity-purity! Marcus had had enough. "My reasons were my own, and as good as yours! Freedom fighters my butt! As soon as you win most of you lock up or kill anyone who doesn't agree with you 100%." 

Spartacus held up his arms in a "stop" gesture. "Enough, both of you! I get the picture, and I think Methos is wrong. He should just let you fight until one of you gets beheaded - and then we should all gang up on the survivor." 

"Why did you spare him, Centurion?" Methos cut in. You had good reason to kill him, and Rome would have rewarded you handsomely." 

Marcus looked at Spartacus, and shuffled his feet in the dirt. 

"Because, ages before, when I still considered myself a Sicilian... I'd been a slave, and I'd done what he did. I knew how he felt, and I figured he'd earned his freedom. Besides, I could always behead him if he made trouble again." 

Spartacus stroked his throat nervously. "Judging from your reputation I'm just as happy I didn't. But don't you ever get tired of warfare? There's so much else a man of your skills and experience could do. There's teaching, consulting, technical assistance to films, writing, historical and archaeological research..." 

"Booooring!" Marcus replied. "After a month or so out of the action I'm ready to go nuts." 

" _Go_ nuts?" Alex sneered. Ceirdwyn poked her hard on the shoulder. 

"If you need the excitement," Methos cut them off, "Then be a lawman, a bounty hunter, a spy, a private detective - or any of those other things you've done in the past. They still operate riverboats for tourists. As a counter-terrorism expert, you could save thousands of lives. If you won't quit it cold turkey, wean yourself off it gradually." 

"I gave up smoking 200 years ago, Needle-Nose," Marcus chuckled. 

"Then you know how it's done." Methos was unfazed. 

"It's not the same and you know it." 

Cassius came forward and spoke, desperation in his voice. "Papa, you don't have to be in the front line of every mortal war. I know you feel loyal to America now, but even America is not always at war. Eventually, the conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq will end. Let the other wars pass, Papa. For the love of God, let them pass!" 

Marcus sighed deeply, suddenly looking very tired. "Aren't we all forgetting that the Inquisito is still on?" He turned his gaze to Methos, who reluctantly nodded. "Neither of us can decide on anything," Marcus continued, "Especially not a 'change of lifestyle' until we get it resolved. Do you agree, Raven?" 

Alex nodded. "Yes, Centurion. We agreed it would end here today, one way or the other." She rubbed her eyes and smoothed her hair. It reminded Marcus of what a beautiful young woman she had been, and still was. "Let's get to the real issue. Rome attacked Cumbria, on the pretext that it had 'violated it's neutrality' by hiding Deglain. Your own tribune, Constantine, led the attack on the kingdom, and you led your vaunted super-century in the assault on the throne room." 

"That's about right," Marcus muttered. 

"My father had ordered my mother to take me and my sisters to our quarters, while he, my brother Bran, my beloved Deglain and a few other men awaited you. I slipped away, but all that I had was my dagger. I wanted to fight, but the men chased me off. They managed to hide me behind the curtains just before you came crashing in with your toadies. But Cassius wasn't there. Where was he by the way?" 

"I sent him and his conturburnia to take another objective. I...I didn't want him involved any more than necessary." Marcus looked poker-faced. 

A conturburnia, Ceirdwyn remembered, was a force of twenty men, equivalent to half a modern platoon - not enough to take on a serious enemy combat unit. It was usually led by a decurion, more or less equivalent to a corporal. It might be useful for seizing and guarding an undefended warehouse, or stable, but not much else. Cassius looked nervously at Ceirdwyn, and she noticed it." 

"What other objective was that?" she asked. 

"The Temple of the Virgins of Andraste of course," Marcus replied with a sly smile, enjoying Cassius' embarrassment. "He was 'delayed' there about an hour." 

On hearing that, Ceirdwyn raised her eyebrows, and glanced at Cassius with beady eyes, then turned to Alex. "Who was the chief priestess at that time?" 

Alex knew Ceirdwyn too well not to guess what was coming. "Uhmmm, actually, it was Cassandra," she told her. She knew that something very nasty was about to hit the fan. 

"Cassandra - that blonde tramp!" He spun around and marched towards her lover. Although he towered over her, he couldn't help cringing; he'd seen her Celtic temper many times over the last two millennia. 

But he was lucky; she just punched him in the shoulder, making him wince and yelp. "That slut's always been after you, and just about every other Immortal who has to shave above the shoulders. "What did you do?" 

"Cara Mia," Cassius answered nervously, "I had just met you, but I swear I did nothing to betray our love." 

Ceirdwyn was not soothed. "Oh yeah? Then what did _she_ do?" 

Marcus could swear Cassius was starting to sweat as he searched for the right words. He could see Spartacus and Methos were quietly enjoying the scene, and even the usually dour Alex Raven couldn't suppress a smile. Women, mortal and Immortal, had always been attracted to Cassius - but except when she was married to someone else, he had always been faithful to Ceirdwyn. Cassandra was more aggressive than most; she liked a challenge - of that sort. 

"Nothing, I swear it!" Despite himself, poor Cassius started to feel very cold. 

"And where do you get off being jealous?" Marcus pounced. "At least he never married anybody else." 

It was Spartacus who broke the deadlock. "According to Antonius Milanus, after Cassius managed to pry her arms from around his neck, he picked her up, tossed her to Antonius, and then took off for the throne room." 

For once, Marcus was genuinely surprised. "How did you know Antonius?" 

"He was one of my teachers. I met him about 200 years after I became immortal. He was already 400 years old then, and had retired from the Roman army. Like me, he really didn't want to fight any more. Do you know what became of him?" 

"Yes," Marcus sighed. "He lost his head to some Spanish Immortal in 1974. I avenged him." 

Spartacus looked saddened. "I am truly sorry to hear that. He was a good man. I hadn't heard from him since I left Europe. But he told me many things about you two, especially about your time in Britannia - things Alex may need to hear before this day is over." 

"What could you possibly tell me that would change anything?" Alex asked bitterly. "I watched as this Roman scum killed my father, then my brother, then my betrothed. None of them had a chance in hell of killing him unless they knew to take his head, and they didn't! They never had a chance!" 

Marcus stood stoically, remembering it all as if it were only days ago instead of millennia. "Constantine had made a deal with Suetonius," he said, "Who also respected your father. All he had to do was turn over Deglain to us." 

"So you could kill him?" Alex shouted. 

"If that's all we wanted, we wouldn't have tried to deal," said Marcus, pacing back and forth. "That fool Decianus wanted his head, but Suetonius and Constantine knew he was worth more alive. They wanted to use him for political leverage against the Picts. His father might have given us concessions for sparing him. Sure, we would have taken over Cumbria, but we would have spared your entire family. You could have all gone into exile in the Highlands or Eire, but no -- you _scemi_ (jerks) had to be heroes." 

"To protect a guest and friend, an ally, and my betrothed!" Alex howled. "You know how the Cumbrians respected the laws of hospitality; what did you expect them to do?" 

Marcus yelled right back. "Certainly not try to kill the man who saved the lives of two of the royal family, and their daughters and sisters! If your betrothed was so great, why didn't he surrender himself? As for killing mortals, we've all done that -- with the possible exception of Spartacus here, after he became immortal." 

Spartacus shrugged. "Actually, I have too. There were always bandits out to attack my farm and threaten my family, especially during the Dark Ages." 

"Deglain wanted to turn himself over to you!" Alex interposed. "My father wouldn't let him as a matter of honor." 

"It sounds as though you Cumbrians were as bound by your concept of honor as Marcus here was bound by his sense of duty," Methos noted. 

"I didn't ask you to defend me, Scythian!" Marcus smiled, but not cordially. 

"Just an observation, Remus," Methos shrugged. "As judge of the Inquisito, I'm allowed to make them." 

"You're also supposed to keep them relevant - and explain their relevance," Marcus countered. 

"I'm trying to make some sense of this. What it all comes down to is two ethical systems on a collision course. In those days you felt yourself bound by duty, and to your oath as a Roman officer. Raven, on the other hand, felt that honor was a matter of loyalty to the traditions and norms of Celtic society. Rome betrayed its ideals right royally in the whole Boudicca affair. It's also true that while Rome was a foreign invader that did considerable dirt to the royal house of the Iceni, even that didn't unify all the Celts. Neither side lived up to its touted ideals." 

"That was nearly two thousand years ago," Marcus said. "I've developed a more discerning view over the centuries, but I haven't become quite as jaded as you." 

"It's kept me alive for 5,000 years," Methos smiled. 

"And I'm right behind you. But since 1815, you've really owed your life to my son's mercy and forgiveness. If not for him, I would have beheaded you that night in New Orleans." 

"I've admitted that, and I'm grateful to him. But consider that our own Immortal society has no written laws, no institutions. Within our own numbers we're ruled only by our own traditions and beliefs. It's a form of anarchy, truth be told, but it's better than the chaos we'd suffer otherwise. You and Raven should be able to better understand each other, as you were then and as you are now. Let me ask you, Marcus Remus: what was going through your mind when you killed her menfolk?" 

Marcus looked at Alex. Her face was a mask of cold anger, but his voice showed no hesitation. "I was thinking of how needless it all was, and what a damned waste. We'd killed tall their few soldiers in the throne room. Only the royals were left. King Adgennus accused me of betraying his hospitality. I reminded him that he owed the lives of his youngest daughters to me. 'But enough of this', I said. 'Your kingdom has fallen to Rome. Surrender and be spared!' I knew he wouldn't, but I had to give him the chance. 

"He raised his sword and shouted 'Better to freeze for eternity in Ibfurin!' and charged me." Marcus paused, remembering that Ibfurin was the Celtic hell; but instead of the eternal flames of Christian belief, it was a land of unbearable cold, bitter winds, and eternal snow. "He had courage, strength, and skill, but he was no match for me. I ended it as swiftly and cleanly as I could." 

"And then my poor brother Bran attacked you, and you slew him even faster!" Alex choked on the words, seeing it afresh in her mind's eye. 

"Yes, I did," Marcus confirmed. "Your lover tried to stop him, but he said that he was king now, and would avenge his father, or die beside him. I begged the boy to stay back, but he rushed towards me anyway. I liked the kid, but I killed him too." 

"Oh yes," Alex sobbed bitterly. "You certainly showed him your sword moves, as you'd promised." 

Marcus continued, his voice now touched by sadness. "Then your lover, Deglain, stood alone. I tried to talk him out of it. I told him for the sake of the women, especially you, to surrender. He said you were 'all beyond my filthy reach'. I didn't understand until later. He raised his sword, called out to Belatu-Cadros -- the Pictish god of war -- and charged me, shouting a war-cry. He fought the best and the hardest of the three, despite his wounds. For a mortal, he was really good, but in the end, I killed him too." 

"One question, Marcus." Methos scratched his head. "Why did you fight them all by yourself? Why didn't you let your men do it? You might have taken them alive." 

"Like I said, they were good," Marcus replied, shaking his head. "They would have killed some of my men before they were killed. If they'd been taken alive, they would have suffered even more. I made it as quick and clean as I could." 

Alex stepped forward, and addressed the others. "All that time, I hid behind the curtains, literally biting my tongue as this dog slew the men I loved, one by one. Little did I know that more would follow. It was horrible enough to see my father and my brother killed, but to see the man I loved more than life killed before my eyes, to see his life drain from his face as Remus drove his damned Iberus into him was more than I could bear. 

"I pulled out my dagger and charged his murderer, screaming every curse I knew. He just stood there, waiting for me, watching with total indifference. I was on him in seconds, and brought down my dagger. But he blocked me with his free arm, and shoved his sword into my chest. I felt a bolt of cold flash through my body. Everything went white and I felt a blinding pain I'd never known. I knew it was death, and I only hoped I'd follow Deglain and my family quickly to the Summerland. Then I felt my lungs fill up as I drowned in my own blood. Everything went from white to black, and my legs buckled from under me. I whispered Deglain's name, and then I died." 

Alex pressed her hands to her chest and looked toward the sky, closed her eyes and wept silently. No one said anything. 

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT: DECISION**

After what seemed like years, Alex wiped the tears from her face and resumed her story. "I don't know how long I was dead, but what felt like a hammer blow to my chest brought me back to living. I bolted up, screaming in pain, and felt two small arms come around me and hold me gently. It was Ceirdwyn, whom I had mourned as dead - killed at Mona. I look around and saw I was in a boat, still beached. I collapsed against my old friend and wept for the men I loved. I couldn't understand why I was alive, or Ceirdwyn was; she mentioned something about Andraste resurrecting me, and I believed it. 

"Then I heard a child's voice call my name. I looked behind Ceirdwyn, and saw Cottia. Without thinking, I asked about Mother and Betha. She started crying, and I knew then that we were alone - all that remained of the royal clans of the Iceni and Cumbria. I took my baby sister in my arms and cried with her. After awhile, I ran out of tears, and I felt a large, powerful hand on my shoulder. I turned, and saw a Roman soldier - him!" She was pointing at Cassius, who closed his eyes and nodded. 

Ceirdwyn took up the tale. "After Cumbria fell, Cassius came to the cave where he was hiding me, and told me what had happened. He told me my second sister was now one of us, and how only little Cottia and she were left of the Clan Delbaeth. I didn't know what to think or do. But Cassius did. He took me to a secluded wooded spot where Ailia... I mean Alex...lay. The jolt to my head told me she was truly one of us. Cassius picked her up in his arms and carried her as I followed. Soon we came to a boat, where Cottia waited with three faithful servants who had survived the carnage. The poor baby cried, not knowing if her big sister was dead or alive. 

"I asked Cassius what was happening, and he told me he was sending us all to Eire, the mysterious island the where the Romans never set foot. He told us we would safe there." She turned her head and smiled at her lover. "I thought I would never see him again, and I didn't want that. I was falling in love with him, even though I didn't know it then. He told us what we were, or as much as time would allow. I begged him to come with us, but he said he couldn't." She turned toward Marcus. "He said his father needed him. He'd told me about Marcus and Emilia, but I couldn't understand how such a gentle soul could have been raised by someone like Marcus. Learning that took many centuries." 

Spartacus stepped between the women, waving for attention. He turned to Cassius. "Cassius, how did Alex get to that secluded spot? Did you take her there?" 

Cassius shook his head. "When I finally reached the throne room, it was over. I saw Marcus standing over Alex. Of course we both knew she would eventually revive. I went to speak to my father, but he put his finger to his lips, and I said nothing. 'She's suffered enough', he said. 'Find the other women and the child. We can still save them. 'Then he picked her up off the floor and put her over his shoulder. He told me to get the other women and any servants I could find and to go to where he'd leave Princess Ailia. . I was to take some gold and jewels from the Cumbrian treasury - not enough that Decianus would notice the shortage, but enough that the refugees could live decently off them - and put them all on a boat to Eire." 

Alex's jaw dropped. "You mean...you mean he really didn't want to enslave my mother and sisters? He really wanted to spare them? That can't be." 

"Do you see what I mean?" Marcus said, looking at Cassius. "She'll never believe it - not in another 2,000 years." 

"But it is the truth," Cassius insisted. "Why are the both of you so blind to it?" 

"Everything they've said," Spartacus added, "verifies what Antonius told me. I had always wondered why they spared me, and then it all made sense." 

"It didn't make sense to me! It still doesn't!" Alex cried out in anguish. " I wanted to kill Cassius, but I had no weapon and Ceirdwyn held me back. Besides, as I soon realized, I would have had no chance against him anyway. Ceirdwyn told me how good he'd been to her, and I saw it was the truth. Most of all, she told me I needed to forswear my vengeance -- at least for awhile -- for Cottia. She needed me badly, so I agreed to wait. But as we sailed to Eire, I swore on the souls of my family, that someday I would take my vengeance on Marcus Remus, no matter how long it took." 

Methos steeled himself for his next question. "Cassius, I know this will be difficult for all involved, but what happened to Queen Fianna and Princess Betha?" 

Cassius dropped his head and began weeping softly. "They killed themselves, and it was my fault. May God forgive me for being the buffoon I was then!" 

"...You?" Alex whispered, stunned. 

Ceirdwyn ran to Cassius and put her arms around him. Marcus folded his arms and shook his head. 

"It wasn't your fault, darling. It couldn't have been. You did your best, and that's all anyone can do." 

Cassius gently took hold of Ceirdwyn's arms. "But if I had gotten there a few minutes sooner, I might have stopped them in time. I might have saved them! I was very stupid back then, and I got confused easily. I lost my way in the palace; I didn't remember which way to go. I tried to ask the servants, but the ones who were still alive ran away. Finally I caught an old woman who told me where the women's chambers were -- but by the time I got there, I could only save Cottia." 

"You were only there once before," Marcus noted. "How could you have possibly known exactly where to go in that rabbit-warren? I didn't know, either. It was as much my fault as yours, but what else could we do? Decianus was on our backs, and even Constantine couldn't hold him off for long. For the last time, you weren't stupid." 

Methos drew them back to the point. "When you finally did find them, what exactly happened, Cassius?" 

Cassius rubbed his eyes. "Queen Fianna and Princess Betha were on the floor, dying. The queen was holding little Cottia in her arms, about to make her drink from her goblet. I knew what was in it, and I knocked it out of her hand. I took the child from her and took her in my arms. 'How could you murder your own child?' I asked." 

Alex sobbed and pressed her hands to her face. "She wanted to spare her the life of a slave. She and Betha knew they would be dragged through the streets of Rome in chains, and then forced into slavery and prostitution. They didn't know what you planned, and I doubt they would have believed and gone with you anyway." 

Ceirdwyn took Alex in her arms to comfort her. 

Cassius nodded. "That's what she told me. She begged me not to let Cottia become a slave, and I gave her my word. She thanked me, as did Betha. I took Cottia out so she would not see her mother and sister die. Later, we came back and gave them decent burials. If it means anything, they did not seem to have suffered." 

Alex nodded slowly. "I know what poison it was," she whispered. "Fast and painless." 

Spartacus cautiously spoke up. "After Cumbria fell, the Roman Senate was not happy with the rebellion and the bloodshed - especially when they heard what provoked it. Decianus sought to put all the blame on Suetonius, who was indeed recalled to Rome, but instead of disgrace, he received honorable retirement. Decianus was recalled soon after. He was given a promotion, but never returned to Britannia or left Rome again. Why was that Marcus?" 

"Among other things," Marcus shrugged, "Because I personally beat the living hell out of the little bastard. He never walked right again, and I know he never bred any more children. He agreed to let Constantine alone, and stop plotting to invade Eire. I had to let him live to protect Cassius and other innocent people he had 'files' on, but the thought of how easy he got off rankles me today. I made sure that the evidence so conveniently left behind got into the hands of the new military governor, Pretonius Turpilanius, and he used it to clear Suetonius and remove Decianus. The little dog-turd was kicked upstairs, not out for good, but at least he was out of Britannia. Pretonius was a good man; he allowed the Britons a great measure of self-rule. The historian Tacitus called it 'cowardly inactivity', but he kept the peace for years." 

"It's true," Ceirdwyn said, still holding Alex. "While he lasted, Roman rule was at least somewhat fair and just. Perhaps Boudicca won after all." 

"Is that what you wanted me to tell her?" Marcus asked Spartacus, who nodded. Marcus shrugged in resignation. "Okay, so I told her." 

"Trying to save your family was really his idea, Alex" Cassius added. "I just helped as best I could." 

Alex gently pulled away from Ceirdwyn. "Yes, but even if it's all true, what does it matter now? It was all too late for Cumbria and my poor family and Deglain. I know their pride contributed to their deaths, but it was the way of the Celts. Even in Eire, the Celts sang songs of that gallant last stand for decades, centuries. But my family and lover were dead, and my home was destroyed. My baby sister grew up among strangers in a foreign land. We were exiles, always. Cottia at least found love and became an Eireann princess and mother, but I was forever denied my dream of marrying the man I loved, ruling by his side, bearing his children, and growing old by his side." 

"You could never have had children," Marcus pointed out. "You know that." 

"Now I do, but not then - and I might have had the rest. We could have adopted children at least. I admit I've learned things about you I never knew or imagined. You brought some justice to Britannia, and for that you have my respect. But you've caused me untold grief, and I don't know if I could let that go -- if I wanted to. For years, there wasn't one night when I didn't look up in the sky and curse Rome and all Romans, especially you. Some nights I still have nightmares of that horrible day. "I wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for breath - and I swear revenge, as determined as I was the first time." 

"Get in line" Marcus said resignedly. "I can't remember all the old enemies who've come after me in nearly 5,000 years. I'm just so tired of it all. So, enough of this crap. Inquisito or not, what do you want to do? Fight or leave?" 

Cassius quickly spoke up. "Papa, the Inquisito is not finished." 

Marcus smiled patiently at his adopted son. "As the subject party, I have the right to call for a decision from the judge at any time. What do you say, 'Your Honor'?" 

"If that's what you want," Methos sighed. "My decision is that Marcus Remus has acted as a soldier throughout the five millennia of his existence. As a soldier, he has been courageous, loyal, and duty-bound. Legally, no court throughout the ages would have called his actions murder, which is more than I can say for some of my own doings. But his devotion to duty, no matter what his motivations, has caused tragedy -- to others, and to himself. He has been a good servant, but often to bad masters. 

"Then again, most of us in this world -- mortal and immortal -- are guilty of that. The grievances of Alexandra Raven, born Princess Ailia of the Clan Delbaeth of Cumbria, are legitimate -- but in no way can I say the actions of Marcus Remus, acting as a centurion of the Roman army, were criminal. She has no recourse under the laws of Inquisito." 

Alex opened her mouth to speak, but Methos stopped her with a raised hand. He continued to speak. "But she does under the traditions of the Immortals. The decision is hers as to whether the Duel of Retribution will continue or not." 

Alex stepped forward, her face filled with weary resignation. She and Marcus stared at each other. She shrugged and Marcus nodded once. 

Without warning, Cassius jumped in between them. "Stop! Wait! There is one last thing you both must know. I have to keep my promise!" 

"What promise?" Marcus asked. 

Cassius looked at both combatants. "The promise I made to poor Betha almost 2000 years ago. She was dying, but her thoughts were of her loved ones. Like her mother, she asked me to promise to spare Alex and Cottia, but she also asked me to carry a message - to Marcus." 

"To me?" Stunned, Marcus threw up his hands in bewilderment. "Cassius, what the hell are you talking about?" 

Cassius gathered his resolve and forced out the words. "Before I left with Cottia, Betha said, 'Tell Marcus that I forgive him, and I love him.' As I left the room with the child, I heard Betha calling your name, Papa." 

Marcus' jaw dropped. 

"No, no," Alex stuttered in shock. "It's a lie,. It has to be..." 

Ceirdwyn grabbed Alex by the shoulders. "No it isn't. Cassius told me about it, long ago." 

"Why didn't you tell me, Cassius?" Marcus demanded. "All this time -- Why didn't you?" 

Cassius looked at his father with something close to pity. "When I told you the queen and the princess were dead, you had just come back from hiding Alex. You were shocked. Don't you remember, Papa? You fell to your knees. You threw off your helmet! You pounded the floor with your fists. You raised your hands to heaven and asked 'Why?'-- To whatever god or gods I don't know. I was afraid of what would happen if I told you the rest. You were in such pain, I could not add to it. But now I must." 

Marcus recoiled in visible pain, remembering. "No, Cassius. No more, please!" 

Cassius was nearly in tears. "I'm sorry, Papa, but she must know." 

"...Betha really did love me..." 

"And she forgave you." 

Ceirdwyn turned Alex around. Her old friend's lips were trembling, and she was weeping again. Ceirdwyn wept too. "I never said anything, for pretty much the same reason, Alex. I didn't think you would believe it. Even if you did, what would it have accomplished? You were always so consumed with hate." 

Alex looked straight through Ceirdwyn. "Betha," she whispered, her voice weak and quivering. "She forgave him. My poor, sweet little Betha." She repeated it again and again. 

Marcus' reaction amazed even Methos. He doubled over as though struck in the stomach, his face in his hands. He was actually crying. Cassius couldn't believe it; he had not seen his father weep since the death of his mother, so many centuries ago. Cassius crouched down and hugged his father, who hugged him back, holding on with all his strength. 

"My God, Cassius," he whimpered. "I thought it was just a young girl's crush... Oh Betha, may the Christian God forgive me!" 

"I know, Papa..." 

Marcus finally straightened up, wiped his tears with his sleeve and retrieved his sword. Alex grabbed her own sword and pushed Ceirdwyn away. But instead of attacking Alex, he Marcus threw his sword at her feet. 

"Do you want to continue this? Do you?" he shouted. "Go ahead! Go ahead, damn it! I 'm sick of this! I never wanted this! If I had I would have killed you back in Cumbria 2000 years ago. I never wanted to hurt your family!" 

Alex let out a scream of anguish and threw her own sword down. "No more! No - It's over! -- for Betha's sake. Andraste witness: I do this so my poor little sister can rest in peace!" 

"I'm so sorry," Marcus said, simply. 

Alex grabbed Marcus by the shoulders. "You never said that before! Not since the day it happened..." 

Then, with a cry of pain and anguish that carried through the hills, she hauled off and punched Marcus in the jaw as hard as she could. 

Marcus rocked, but stayed on his feet. Alex's hand hurt, but she hauled off to do it again. He catch her fist in mid-blow and forced it down. 

"No," he said firmly. "I had that one coming, but it's all you're getting." 

He released her roughly. Alex didn't try to hit him again, but only stared at him blankly. 

Marcus turned around, picked his sword up, sheathed it, and walked away. After a few paces, he sat down on a rock and clasped his hands, looking at the ground. 

Alex gave Ceirdwyn a reassuring glance, picked up her sword and sheathed it too, then went to her jeep and sat down inside. 

Ceirdwyn and Cassius ran into each other's arms and kissed fiercely. "Is it really over, Darling?" Ceirdwyn whispered. "Do you think they both mean it?" 

Cassius smiled and stroked the golden brown hair of his beautiful Iceni princess. "Only time will tell, but I think so." They held each other in silence. 

Spartacus looked at Methos. "What happens now?" he asked 

Methos scratched his chin. "That's up to them, I suppose." 

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

Cassius and Marcus stood away from the others as they spoke. Marcus seemed very tired, but relieved at the same time. He put a hand on Cassius' shoulder. "I still don't like much that you got together with Methos. I appreciate that you meant well though. Just remember that he has his own agenda." A smile crossed his face. 

"I'm sorry, Papa, but there was no other way. It had to end before one of you finally killed the other. I could not live with myself if I let that happen." 

There was something else in his eyes Marcus could sense. "What are you trying to tell me, son?" Deep down, Marcus knew. 

"I'm not brain-damaged like before. I have been to Dr. Chandel, and she says I am recovering faster than she originally thought possible. She is very happy for me." 

"Yeah," Marcus chuckled. "She always had a warm spot for you." 

"What I am trying to say, Papa, is that you are still my father. I will always love you and need you - but I don't need you like before anymore. I can protect myself now, run my business, and live my own life like never before. I can come out from under your wing and be a man on my own now - with Ceirdwyn, I hope." Marcus looked over Cassius' massive shoulder, and saw the former Celtic princess cast a loving look. He'd accepted a long time ago that their love was deep, mutual, and real. "I suppose I knew this day would come from the moment we first discussed your surgery in Grace Chandel's office. I wanted you to be cured, but I admit I was scared both for you and for me. I ...didn't want to lose my son." 

Cassius smiled in understanding. "You will never lose me, Papa. How many times do I have to say it? But it is time for me to come out from under your protection and be truly on my own. It is also time for you to live your own life, for yourself, and find peace." 

Marcus put his hands firmly on Cassius' shoulders. "Raising you was the best thing I ever did. I've said it before, but it's true. Your mother would be very happy if she could see you now." 

"I believe she can, Papa," Cassius smiled. But I also believe she would want you to be happy, and find love again." 

Marcus sighed deeply. "You'll leave a big void Cassius, but I'll be okay. You'll do all right too. You have Ceirdwyn, and she loves you with all her heart. I can't deny that. In that respect, she's like your mother. I'm leaving you in good hands." 

Cassius looked innocent. "Good hands, Papa? Where is that? I thought you were leaving me here in Arizona." 

Marcus was startled for an instant, and then saw the hint of slyness in Cassius' innocent smile. He leaned over and smacked him lightly upside the head. _"Spregevole (Wise guy)!"_ he exclaimed. "You think I didn't always know you did that on purpose? 'Dunderhead of Rome', my butt!" 

They both laughed loudly. Cassius hugged his father, and Marcus hugged him back. Watching from a distance, Ceirdwyn smiled. 

The two men finally separated. They talked together quietly for a few minutes more. Then Marcus, looking a little somber, called out to Methos. "Hey Needle-Nose! Your plan worked. My sword won't 'hang over' you anymore. You just follow the same rules as anyone else; don't hurt my son and I won't hurt you." 

"No problem there," Methos smiled. "But do you think you could stop calling me 'Needle-Nose'?" 

Marcus shook his head. "Don't press your luck!" 

Methos turned to Spartacus and shrugged. "Oh well," he muttered. "It was worth a shot." 

Spartacus shrugged back, barely suppressing a laugh. 

Marcus shook hands with Cassius, gently slapped him on the shoulder, and signaled for Ceirdwyn to come over. As Marcus strode toward Alex Raven, Ceirdwyn rushed into Cassius' powerful but gentle arms. 

Alex turned to look at Marcus unemotionally. Her face was drained of the hate she'd carried for so long, but nothing had replaced it. 

"You know Heinrich has to pay," Marcus said without preamble. "He and his cronies are responsible for too much death and misery, to mortals and Immortals alike - not to mention both of us." 

Alex cocked her head. "What are you suggesting, Roman?" 

"An alliance. We both go after him and his flunkies. Who beheads him is unimportant, just so long as he's gone. Then we go our separate ways forever." 

Alex sat silently for a while, then spoke. "Agreed, Roman. This one time, we work together - strictly business." 

"No problem, except stop calling me 'Roman'. Remember, I've been an American for the last 230 years. We can take the chopper; I don't think Cassius or Ceirdwyn will mind." 

Alex nodded as she looked at the two lovers, holding each other as they spoke. Marcus thought he saw a glint of envy in her eyes. He understood how she felt, which surprised him a little. 

"Let me say goodbye to Ceirdwyn," she said. 

"Go ahead," he replied, knowing what she was thinking. 

Alex went to Ceirdwyn, took her aside and spoke to her for a few minutes. They also hugged each other, and the farewell was tearful. Then Ceirdwyn returned to Cassius' side as Alex walked briskly toward the helicopter. "Let's go," Alex told Marcus as she rushed past him, holding back more tears. 

Without another word, Marcus waved goodbye to Cassius and Ceirdwyn, who both waved back." Then he walked over to Spartacus and Methos and they shook hands silently. His eyes told Methos he knew more than he was letting on. Marcus turned around, trotted to the helicopter where Alex was waiting, and got behind the controls. Minutes later, they were airborne and on their way toward Phoenix. 

Cassius and Ceirdwyn watched the chopper grow small in the distance, then walked over to Methos and Spartacus. 

"They're going after Heinrich together," Ceirdwyn said sadly. "I couldn't talk her out of it." 

"Just as well," said Spartacus. "What do you think they'll do afterward?" The others looked at him. "Oh, I have no doubt those two will win" he said. "Both of them working together? Heinrich doesn't stand a chance." 

"Alex said she'll still fight for freedom and human rights," said Ceirdwyn. "But without violence. She'll only fight when she's challenged." 

"What about Marcus?" Methos asked. 

Cassius' silence and sad expression gave him his answer. 

"I thought so," he said to no one in particular. 

"Give him time," Cassius said firmly. "You got what you wanted, didn't you?" 

Methos didn't respond. 

Cassius took Ceirdwyn in his arms again and smiled, stroking her hair. "Let's go now, Cara Mia. We have much to discuss. Perhaps it is time to do something we have put off for a very long time." Ceirdwyn smiled broadly and kissed Cassius. They looked into each other's eyes, then said their goodbyes to Spartacus and Methos and ran hand in hand to the helicopter. They jumped in and, with Cassius behind the wheel, headed toward Highway I-10. 

"Well," said Spartacus, watching them go, "I'd say that went very well. Heinrich is as good as dead, Marcus is off your back, and Marcus and Alex won't kill each other after all. How long did it take for you to pull all that together?" 

"Quite awhile," Methos admitted. "Actually, Cassius really did approach me first. I couldn't have done it without him being healed and that meant waiting until medical science advanced enough to do it. Fortunately, I learned of Grace Chandel's research. She was looking for Cassius so I told her where to find him. I was surprised that he actually came up with the idea before I could suggest it." 

"Hmmm. Meanwhile, you spent centuries ducking Marcus. Are you really that afraid of him?" 

"Let's just say I have a healthy respect." Methos smiled humorlessly. "He doesn't terrify me like Kronos did - honorable men rarely do - but avoiding him was the wisest choice." 

Spartacus gave him a keen look. "Could you take him?" he asked simply. 

"Not openly," Methos shrugged. "He's better than I am with a sword and his spy network is better than I thought. I could never defeat him in a fair fight, but I'm far sneakier so who knows?" 

Spartacus gave a booming laugh. 

"It's a pity you had to miss the actual fight," Methos went on. "Alex was extraordinary. She almost beat him, 'Tikos. Almost beat him!" 

"In the American West, they say 'Almost only counts in horseshoes.' Still, it's good to know there's a woman among the top ten swordfighters in the world. How many others are you grooming, old plotter?" 

"Quite a few, actually, though it'll be awhile before I can give any of them the message." 

"Which is?" 

"The same as always; that I don't believe in the Game; I don't value the Prize, I don't like the idea of our species destroying itself, and we should save as many as we can - every last one that's worth saving. The trick is to lead my protégés into thinking that up for themselves." 

"Save as many as we can," Spartacus agreed. "Is that why you spared Marcus all these centuries? ...Oh, don't look so indignant. I know that if you wanted him dead, he'd have been long gone since." 

Methos shook his head and scuffed one shoe on the dirt. "Don't underestimate him. He could have killed me any time he wanted to as well. I really was at his mercy that night when Cassius convinced him to spare me. Fortunately, he's a man of his word, and I'm not sure he's not on to me. He's highly intelligent under the bravado. Defeating him would never be easy, not by a damn sight." 

"But is he worth saving?" Spartacus asked. 

"He can be a bully at times, and at life and love, a little bit of a fool. But he hates the Game too, and he has a sense of honor. He's not a lunatic or a vicious psychopath - and he's obviously capable of love. Hell yes, he should survive - and so should Alex. I daresay she'll have fewer hysteria buttons to push hereafter." 

"Let's hope," said Spartacus, gazing down the now-empty road. "Isn't it amazing how much 'family' means to most of us, when we're not born into them and can't breed any for ourselves?" 

"Rarity makes it valuable." Methos didn't meet his eyes. 

"I think it's a little more than that." Spartacus smiled. "We're as human as mortals, Methos; we're social animals, and we need the company of equals." 

"We all need love," Methos admitted. "That's as good an argument for peace as any I can think of." 

Oh, yes. I'd better get going myself," Spartacus said. "It'll be dusk soon and it's a long drive back to Flagstaff. I'll have to call home and tell my wife to keep dinner warm. She'll just love that ostrich egg." 

"Good luck." Methos smiled. "And thanks for your help. Drive carefully." 

Spartacus chuckled, then went back to his pickup truck and got in. He waved goodbye and Methos casually waved back. The truck started up and rolled off toward the highway, leaving a trail of dust. 

Methos watched the pickup until it was gone, then glanced again at the empty sky. 

"Yes, that did go very well," he said to himself. 

Then he got on his motorcycle, revved it up, and sped off in the direction of the highway. 

**FINIS**

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© 2005   
Please send comments to the author! 

05/13/2005 

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